Promise from the heart

Chapter 1

Charlie has always been intelligent. He reads a lot and he understands things quickly. He is good at his schoolwork, and it takes little effort for him to ace his tests. Unlike his fellow classmates, he likes to read books for fun, and has been an avid reader since he was four. No one really taught him. One of his nannies got him started and by reading to him often, the desire grew for him to be able to read on his own. He was nothing if not independent. When she  quit, he got a new nanny who couldn't be bothered to read to him, so he kept practicing on his own until he could do it himself.

His hair is curly and a very light auburn, and his eyes are dark green, with a golden circle around the pupil. It's called heterochromia and he's been told his maternal grandfather had it as well. Around his eyes sat long black eyelashes, and unlike most of the guys in school, he had full pink lips. His skin was quite pale, but a sort of caramel pale, so it always looked somewhat tanned, never lifeless even in wintertime. But the boy himself couldn't care less. He had more important things to worry about than his appearance.

Charlie had been born slightly premature, and up until two years ago he had had very poor health. He was so used to being sick that when he wasn't anymore, he thought something was wrong. In time he got used to being healthy and when he did, he never wanted to be sick again. To help himself stay healthy, he had learned how to cook simple nutritious meals for himself, and he had taken up running. He loved to run, because it made him feel free. And that was a feeling that wasn't easy to come by in his life, because he was anything but. Running made him feel like none of his worries could catch up to him, and it was just him and the wind against the world.

Charlie really wants to join track once he reaches high school. It is one of the few things he's actually looking forward to.

He has a few friends in school, but he isn't close with anyone. If he suddenly moved one day, he had no doubt everyone would just move on as if he'd never been there in the first place. But having classmates willing to do projects with him and pair up with him during gym was all that the boy could ask for. His life had taught him early on to be happy for what little you've got, and to not expect much. After all, life always had a way of disappointing you. No, wait, that's people...

The boy lived with his dad, stepmother and his three younger stepbrothers. His mom had died when he was born. She had looked like an angel, his father had told him, but Charlie himself had no memories of her. He did dream about her though, and in his dreams he'd talk to her for hours, tell him of all the things that had happened that day and all the things he wished he could do with her. He never told anyone that though. They'd just tell him it was only a dream, but he knew it couldn't have been. He couldn't explain it, but it had felt as real as anything else to him. It couldn't have been a dream conjured up by his own vivid imagination. Even if it was. Vivid, that is.

Her pregnancy had been difficult and  she had to have an early emergency c-section, during which she lost too much blood and passed away before ever getting to hold him. Not a day went by without the boy wishing she hadn't. Even though they'd never met, he missed her terribly. He swore he knew what she felt like to hold, what she smelled like and what she sounded like, even though he had no memories of her and his father refused to talk about her. There weren't even any photos of her in their home. 'No point' his father had said, since she was dead anyway.

The poor boy had a void inside of him, and deep down he knew that only his mother could fill it. With her gone, it remained wide open, crippling him more every day.

After she died, his father brought him up, or technically, the babysitters and nannies did. In ten years time, his father never brought anyone home - he himself was hardly ever home - and the boy tried to tell himself that it was because he was still grieving, still in love with his deceased mother. But deep down he knew that wasn't the case. He knew his father wasn't capable of loving her or anyone else that deeply, or at all. At least that was what Charlie had thought. But then one day, a few months after the boy's eleventh birthday, his father claimed to have fallen in love.