a sky full of stars - louis partridge

emptiness

CHARLOTTE
FRIDAY, NOV 17th 2020

*WARNING SEXUAL ASSAULT*
if you think you will find this chapter triggering please skip it. I kept the
details minor but please if you think it
could trigger you do not read it. And
if you need it please get help.

Charlotte's vision was blurred as she walked back into the house, the music was so loud she couldn't hear herself think. She'd had way to much to drink and was on the verge of throwing up. She leaned against the wall, catching her breath and closing her eyes. She could've sworn she only closed her eyes for a second but when she felt somebody's hands touching her skin, sliding up her dress she quickly opened them. "Stop" she said clearing. But they didn't listen they just kept on touching her. She could feel there body weight pushing her against the wall, keeping her in a tight grip. She began to tear up. The music was to loud and no one could hear her. There was so many people around but none of them were looking. None of them cared. "Get off of me" she shouted before using all her strength to push the figure off of her causing them to rip the side of her dress.

She walked home in a state of numbness, aware of little around her except each footstep on the ground beneath her feet, one after the other. The sun was just beginning to rise when she finally turned to walk down her street, her feet aching, her fingers cramping from holding cigarette after cigarette. She'd smoked until the box, was almost empty, and even now, with no smoke to inhale, she still felt like she was breathing it. It hadn't relaxed her, the smoking. Not like it was supposed to. Her throat felt like sandpaper, cheeks cold from silent tears.

Her heart ached. She hated herself. Everything that had gone on in there all of it was because of her. If she had done one thing differently, none of this would have happened. To her surprise, Margaret's car was parked in the driveway. "Please don't see me, please don't see me," Charlotte mumbled as she unlocked the door and stepped inside "Finally!" a voice called from the living room. Charlotte cursed under her breath and reluctantly stepped into the doorway only to see her mother, Margaret, sprawled out on one of the leather couches, his feet propped up on the glass coffee table. "You're home early," Margaret observed. "Or should I say late, Miss I snuck out through the back of the house in the middle of the night and thought no one would notice?"

"Well how was the party?" Margaret asked, turning her head slowly to watch. Her voice was as dull and as empty as her eyes.  Charlotte shrugged.  "What one?" Margaret said holding out her pack of cigarettes. After a moment, Charlotte took one, using her own lighter from her pocket to light it rather than sharing. She didn't want to act that friendly. "Your makeup's smudged." Margaret stated. "So's yours." Charlotte replied. "In a different way." Margaret tilted her head, peering at Charlotte curiously, then started to laugh. "And your hair's messy, too. And your dress is torn. Oh my God, Charlotte. Who knew you were so wild?"  Charlotte took a deep drag of her cigarette and avoided eye contact.  "Was it good, at least?"  "Fuck you," Charlotte snapped, disgusted. She extinguished her cigarette and slammed her glass of water back onto the counter. "I don't know why I even bother."  "No, no, I'm sorry," Margaret called out. "That was bitchy."  "No shit," Charlotte replied.

"Why do you keep fucking doing it?" Charlotte asked. "Doing what" Margaret said. "Being such a screwup, and such a terrible mother, we needed you." Charlotte shouted as a tear began to roll down her cheek. "Because too much pain comes with being sober. I go one day without smoking or drinking or taking some sort of over expensive bullshit and by that night I'm curled up in a ball crying with no one there to help me. I'm just alone and hurting. So I fuck my life up worse, but each day it helps me ignore the pain."  Charlotte shook her head. "That's some screwed up logic."  "It's hardly even logic," Margaret said, half-laughing. "It's pathetic." She paused, breathing in smoke.

As Charlotte finished her cigarette, she heard the sound of the front door opening.  She peeked her head around the corner. "Hey, Riv," she called out, but he ignored her completely and went up to his room. She frowned and exchanged a glance with Margaret.  "Go check on him," Margaret said. Charlotte nodded, and went to go jog up the stairs after him. "River?" she called, knocking on the door of his bedroom. "What's up?"  No response.  She pushed the door slowly open. He was sitting on top of his bed holding his trophy from football that he had won last year. "I remember when you got that award. Player of the season. That's a big achievement Riv." Charlotte said softly. She watched, as he stood up in a sudden rush of rage and smashed it against the floor, over and over again. Pieces of it flying everywhere.

Charlotte sprinted over to him, grabbing him around the shoulders and pulling him backwards. He stopped, but didn't turn, didn't look at her, didn't release the broken neck of his trophy. She gently pried it from his fingers, then walked him back over to the side of his bed and sat down with him, trying to avoid the sharp pieces scattered around their feet.  "What's wrong, Riv?" she asked softly, pushing back hair from his face. "Tell me what happened."  "I hate girls," he said, and angrily wiped tears from his cheeks, so harsh she wondered if he had hurt himself in the process. "I fucking hate them."  "You hate me?"  "You're not a girl, you're my sister," he sniffed. Charlotte laughed quietly, but as quickly as it had come she was serious again.  "What happened?" she asked. 

He didn't respond for so long she almost believed he had decided not to tell her at all, but when he did speak his voice cracked, and she realised the silence was just from trying not to cry. "Yasmine broke up with me," he choked out. "She told me that I didn't try hard enough and that she liked another guy more. But I did try, Charlotte. I always tried."  "Oh, River," she murmured, taking him into her arms. "It's okay." She held him close to her for as long as he needed. She knew, in a way, how he felt the boy who she'd had her first kiss with two years back had been in a relationship with her for three weeks, then dumped her because she was 'too quiet'. And it stung. It hurt like a bitch. The feeling of not being good enough took time to move on from, for her just as it would for Riv.  "I want you to know that whatever she has made you believe," she said quietly, "you are good enough. You're not a failure. You're not a bad guy. You are perfectly perfect in every way. But not every relationship is perfect, yeah? Not every single couple fits together amazingly, and that's okay. You take your time and you move on, and sooner or later that amazing fit will come to you" He pulled back from her and wiped his cheeks clean of tears.