Darkened Heart

Chapter Three

Drip... Drip... Drip... Her eyes fluttered open slowly. Memory traveled back to her mind like old and lost whispers. As the memory of what had happened reached her thoughts, her eyes widened. Sitting up, she whirled her head around only to find that she was back in the same drafty bedroom of the Pink Palace. The wallpaper was still peeling, rain was still sprinkling, and the leak was still dripping. Sighing, she rubbed her eyes and leaned against the frame of her bed. Her hand brushed against her cheek as she did so, making her let out a gasp. Examining her face with her fingers, she realized that the pain was gone. It was as if nothing had ever harmed her in the first place. A blush crept onto her face as she remembered what had happened last night. The realization of why he had kissed her so lovingly was no secret. Part of her wished she hadn't woken up in this lousy excuse of a room. There was no way the other father and the crawlspace door could've been a dream. She didn't accept it as being so. The last thing she remembered seeing were his black button eyes staring back at her in an adoring way. Charlotte kept thinking and thinking, hoping that no matter what he was real. She remembered every detail including the food. Pausing, she soon noticed that she wasn't the slightest bit hungry.

Forcing herself out of bed, she slid her light pink tennis shoes onto her feet. Since she had slept in her clothes from yesterday, she decided not to change. That's when she turned to face the doll that sat on her nightstand. As soon as her eyes hit the makeshift buttons, she had that same feeling in her stomach that she was being watched. Of course, now the feeling was no longer vague. She didn't know why, but the vibe of paranoia and fear she had before were now gone. Picking up the doll, she examined it for a moment. Charlotte looked into its eyes, but soon shrugged and placed it on the bed. Walking out the door and downstairs, she wasn't entirely hungry for breakfast after all that pasta. Passing the living room, she saw her dad sitting on the couch. A strong and dominating aroma floated to her nose as she passed him into the kitchen. She tried to ignore it, knowing exactly what he was probably doing at this hour. To clear her head, she put a silver kettle on the stovetop to fix some hot tea. It didn't take long for the whistle to echo throughout the room as the smoky mist steamed out of the rustic old pot. She opened the cupboard and fetched a small mug with cracked blue stripes. The hot, dark brown liquid poured easily into the cup. Sitting down at the table to enjoy the warm beverage, her thoughts wandered back to the other father. His low and melodic voice seemed to replay in her mind like a recording. Although she still felt skeptical about him, she admitted to herself that she felt... wanted. It was as if his presence made her feel as if she was welcomed and not alone in this dreadful move. Speaking of which, all she could think about was Jacksonville. She missed the beach, the sun, her friends, and even the school she so lavishly took for granted.

"Morning." Her dad's voice entered her ears, sounding as if he didn't get an ounce of sleep. Looking up, she saw the bags underneath his eyes. "Morning..." She replied, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he made his way to the fridge. "I'm headed to town. We might as well stock up on groceries now that we're here. After I'm gone, do me a favor and pick up the mail when it comes by." He grumbled, walking out the door before she could say two words. She was sure he wasn't in a good mood. It was as if he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, and he had a choice, because he had the bed to himself. Rolling her eyes, she didn't bother to finish the rest of her tea. Instead she dumped the rest of it in the sink and decided to meet the neighbors before her dad made a terrible impression for her. As soon as the old blue car was out of sight, she headed outside. It wasn't sprinkling or raining as hard as the day before, but the air was noticeably moist and cool.

As her eyes scanned the nearby woods, she could see a slight fog creeping through the trees. In the mood for a little exploration, she walked around the house and into the nearby garden. Charlotte felt her shoes groan as they stepped across the mossy old concrete stairs. Her hands opened the rusty gate before stepping in to view it. Dead trees slumped sadly over the exterior as nothing but shriveled grass grew. The garden was quite bare, devoid of anything moving except the occasional mosquito every now and then. The more she looked at it, she felt some sort of energy over her. It felt as if she stood on a grave, even if that seemed a little grim. Whatever the feeling, she wasn't fond of it. She walked past the poison oak that sprouted out of the cobblestone cracks. Crossing the stony bridge, she noticed what looked to be dead flowers that merely resembled tulips around the areas that had soil. Guessing all the bad weather was what knocked them clean out, she made a mental note that if she ever had the time, she'd plant new ones. After all, in a boring old almost-abandoned looking atmosphere, she'd do anything for a little color. She thought that any color would make the effort to make home feel like home again. Hearing crows off in the distance, she turned her head to look back at the forest. Her elbows leaned onto the railing of the small bridge as she looked up at the clouded sky, knowing that somewhere up there was a hidden sun. The cawing crows didn't catch her by any surprise, what did, was the small beast that jumped onto her.