The Rule Breaker (On Hold)

C h a p t e r O n e

《 C h a p t e r O n e 》

Charlotte's P.O.V.

My memory usually fails me. Usually.

When I do rememvber something, I am often praised or patted at the back. Who, you say, congratulates me when I have accomplished remembering something?

Myself.

Out of the few memories (which, by the way, is nearly a handful) I have remembered, I was never proud to say that I memorized every exact detail of a certain one.

The day I left him.

I sneered at the thought of him itself. Betrayal isn't a thing that can easily be forgotten. It's one of the greatest sins known for me. For me, that is. Do what you must, complain about my opinions, argue about my thoughts, but that's my mindset, which might be different from yours.

I'm not a hundred percent sure whether I am happy of the riddance of his presence. Sure, the past few days were very similar to living in hell, but I survived, or so I thought I did.

Creating walls, pushing him out of my mind, tearing down ever memory, it takes a lot of effort. It can drain your energy to an incredible extent. So leaving him, wasn't the best choice I have ever done. I'd like to say that I'm happy. That I am totally secured from this and that I won't get gravely affected.

I'd like to think that I'm not guilty and that he should be the one that's guilty.

Striking a memory chord as it steeps into my mind was when I stomped out of the empty classroom, fuming. An addition to my anger, I was soaking wet.

The day after that was the day where I can't say that I've gone through worse. I lost my dog when I was eight, and I cried. I lost my grandma when I was eleven and I was devastated. But when I look back, I spent most of my existing life with him.

Until he broke our rule.

Why does it seem so hard for him to obey?

My mind was fuzzy minutes ago until I realized that all this thinking made my head throb. I let out a frustrated groan.

"Charlie? Are you awake?" Mom shouted from the floor below, I greatly assure you that she can wake up the whole neighborhood.

"Er, no?" I squeaked.

I hope that she ignored me and just rolled her eyes at me. I also hoped that she will leave because I wanted to go back to sleep. As much as everybody hates Monday mornings, I hate mornings in general.

The rays of sunlight peeking through the window and the jolly birds chirping and humming to a soft tune. As temping as how mornings are described in poems or fairy tales, reality comes crashing into your hopes and dreams, breaking every single piece of it.

Who would want to wake up and get out of the most comfortable place in the world?

The bed is the best thing that was ever invented. Not in the dirty kind of way. I mustered up all the courage I can get to get out of it, taking a whole 5 minutes.

I finally got out of bed. Victory! Well, if rolling to the side and falling to the floor is considered as "getting out of bed", then I totally did.

The loud thud, courtesy to the great impact of the floor and my back, caused a commotion of thundering steps barging into my supposedly personnal room. Those heavy steps were caused by none other than my reckless older brothers who seem to be mentally younger than I am.

"What happened?" Jake, the second oldest and less stupid one asked.

"I clearly fell." I snarled as he laughed his ass of, leaving my room.