"Are you going?" Nathan asks. "To the funeral, I mean."
His cousin looks at him with tired eyes.
"Yeah," she replies. "It just feels wrong not to. Even after everything, he was still my father."
Nathan's gaze slides to the scars on Charlotte's wrists, and the crookedness of her nose, and the burn over her left eye. He takes his lighter out and shoves a cigarette between his lips quickly. It's the only way to keep himself from saying something harsh.
"You'll have me with you the whole time," he promises instead, and Charlotte just smiles and squeezes his hand.
YOU ARE READING
100 Word Drabbles
RandomDrabbles. Half baked story ideas, and possible prompts. Feel free to expand upon them how you see fit.
