Yesterday

Chapter 20

PAUL'S POV

"George, you idiot, that was her sister!" I cried, thumping him on the head.

"Ow! I'm sorry, I didn't know!" George cried apologetically. I swung around, my eyes in a frantic search, but it was too late. She was nowhere to be seen.

"C'mon, we have to get out of this cemetery and find her," I muttered as George and I made our way out. "Why don't we split up?" George suggested. "You go that way, and I go this way." I nodded in silent agreement as George and I went our separate ways. I headed across the park and towards the lake that resided in the middle. If I knew Charlotte, and I think I did, I knew exactly where she'd be.

Turns out I was right. Well mostly. I did know Charlotte, but apparently not as well as I thought. 

Halfway around the lake, I spotted Charlotte sitting on an old wooden bench, nearly completely hidden by the monstrous wilderness behind it. So hidden, I almost passed her by completely. 

"Char, there you are. Love, are you-?" I stopped mid-sentence. 

Charlotte sat on the bench with a dreamy, far-away look in her eye and she took another puff from the cigarette she held in her hand. But, Charlotte didn't smoke cigarettes, at least not from what I remember...

I looked a bit closer. It wasn't a cigarette. 

I don't know what it was exactly that made me so upset in that moment. Whether it was the fact that I didn't know Charlotte like I thought I did, or the fact that she had more problems than I had thought, I wasn't sure.

Charlotte seemed unaware of my presence as she took another hit from the nearly burnt-out joint that sat between her fingers. She looked up at me for a moment before her eyes wandered back out in front of her. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

"Hi, Paul."

I don't know what came over me. I felt something wet on my face, and I realized that I had begun to cry, too. 

Really, Paul? You're crying? Over what?? I said to myself, but I couldn't help it.

"Hi, Char."

I sat down next to her and took the joint from her hands, burning it out on the edge of the bench. She acted as if she didn't notice. Whatever had been in that joint had obviously begun to take full effect on her. I turned to her and took her face into my hands, forcing her to look at me. I studied her features. Her beautiful green eyes that had a usual dance of excitement in them were now dulled and drowsy looking. Wisps of jet black hair blew around, outlining the frame of her face. 

"Paul, you're crying," she said. It was more of a statement, rather than a question.

"You're crying too, Charlotte."

Her eyebrows furrowed like she was confused. I pulled her into my chest and wrapped my arms around her as tightly as I possibly could, and that was when she began to sob.

"Charlotte, what has gotten into you? You haven't been yourself. Please tell me. Tell me everything. Let me in. I want to help."

Wiping the tears out of her eyes, she withdrew from me. 

"Paul, losing Elizabeth was not something I could handle. It still isn't." 

Reaching into her coat pocket, she pulled out a handful of joints, looking identical to the one she had just been smoking. Pulling up her sleeves, she revealed a series of deep cuts and bruises going up and all around her arms. She lifted up her shirt, revealing the most unhealthy looking stomach I've ever seen. I could see each one of her ribs in perfect detail.

She didn't say a single thing the entire time, and she didn't have to. Suddenly I was the one sobbing while she held me.

"Oh Charlotte, oh Charlotte..." was all I could say.

"We have to fix this. I can fix you. I will, Charlotte."