"You deserve better, you know." Charlie winced. She'd know that voice anywhere- too bad she wasn't in the mood to hear it.
"Shut the hell up, Bass. I'm not having this conversation now." She went back to the cup of amber liquid sitting in front of her- the one thing keeping her sane. Of course, Bass wasn't having that.
"Why are you doing this to yourself, Charlie?" She shook her head, laughing cynically.
"Why am I doing this to myself, huh? Why? What a funny word...Why? Why am I drinking myself into a damn coma? It must run in the family." Charlie got her whiskey affinity from her uncle Miles.
"I call bull. What's on your mind?" Charlie's already heated glare turned cold.
"Look, Monroe, you have no right to call bull here. You don't know me. Now piss off, and let me drink myself silly." He simply shook his head and sat down next to her, not saying a word.
"He wouldn't want this, Charlie."
"Well, He's not here." He being Miles.
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you have to lose your shit just because he's gone."
"Oh, really? The guy who hasn't left my side in two years is gone, Monroe. I don't even know if he's alive. Would you be able to stay sane?"
"I don't think drinking myself into a coma is the best way to stay sane."
"Who said I do?"
"The half empty whiskey bottle in front of you begs to differ, Charlie." That's it she thought I'm not going to sit here and listen to this. Charlie stood up abruptly, knocking the dilapidated bar stool over in the process. "Stay the hell away from me, Monroe."
With that, she was gone.
~o0o~
Sebastian Monroe anxiously ran his fingers through his hair. That damn girl will be the death of me. Charlie was gone for most of the night, only coming back the early the next morning after the accident. When she burst through the door, she was coated in dirt and scrapes. Now, he was standing here in shock- and not just because she actually came back. Charlie looked like she had been on the losing end of a fight with a badger.
"Shit, Charlie, what happened?" In response, he got a grunt and an angry girl walking straight past him, up the stairs of the house. Someone's hungover. Bass knew that going after her while she's in this state would e futile. This was their familiar routine, ever since Miles disappeared a little over a week ago. Charlie would drown herself in alcohol, get into a heated argument with Monroe when he came to comfort her, and then proceed to storm out of the kitchen the second he tried to get her to stop.
The worst part was, Monroe didn't even know where Charlie went at night. She could be getting attacked...or worse. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the thoughts that plagued him. No, Bass, don't think about it. Just try to stop it. Miles would want you to protect her. Sighing, he realized he had to do something. As pissed as she would be, he had to go confront her. Life couldn't go on this way.
He turned around and made his way up the stairs, walked down the hallway, and stopped at Charlie's door. He held his balled up hand over the door, about to knock, when he heard barely audible sniffling and incoherent mumbling. He pressed his ear against the door, and he could hear Charlie talking to herself.
"Miles...why did you have to just...disappear...and leave me with him...it's my fault...I made you want to leave..." In between her crying, this was the only sound coming from the quiet room. Bass felt a tug in his chest, listening to her talk this way. They didn't have a great relationship, though. He could never replace Miles, and he was terrible at comforting people.
He pried his ear off the door and walked back down the hallway- he knew nothing he could say would make this any easier.
~o0o~
Charlie Matheson didn't know how long she had been sitting, mumbling to herself on her bed. She just stared at the paisley pattern of the wallpaper as she tried to make sense of everything. Miles is gone. He could be dead. Instead of being a half decent niece, I'm drowning myself in whiskey. She felt powerless- a rare feeling for her. Everything about this situation was wrong. Miles should be here, with her, not off somewhere unfamiliar, possibly dead. She pressed her head into her pillow, crying silent tears.
Every night this week, she followed the same routine. She'd down half a bottle of whiskey, get yelled at by Monroe, and promptly leave the house. As far as she knew, he didn't even know where she went. Hell, even Charlie didn't know where she was going. She just knew that she walked aimlessly around the countryside until she passed out for the night (often in some bush or under some tree). It wasn't a good habit, it wasn't even a safe habit- and Charlie didn't give a damn. The walls were smothering her. Something has to change.
And with that, her most reckless plan ever made its way into her head. Instead of walking around aimlessly tonight, she'd walk with a purpose. Well, a purpose and a survival kit. She had to find Miles.
~o0o~
Monroe knew something was off the minute Charlie walked down the stairs in a better mood. She even smiled at him. "Hey, Bass, I'm just gonna have a quick drink and go to bed." He knew it was going to end in her storming out of the house, but she wasn't his to control. He had no say- her even giving him the heads up that she planned to drink was more of a courtesy than anything.
"Just...don't overdo it Charlie. I know that you think I'm scum, but I'm scum obligated to look out for you." A pained expression flashed across her face, disappearing as quickly as it came. She walked wordlessly into the kitchen.
An hour later, Monroe realized he should probably go check up on her. When he walked into the kitchen, though, there was no Charlie. That, and his backpack was missing- along with his sword, 2 bags of jerky, a reusable water bottle, and the blanket that had been sitting on the chair in the kitchen. Unbelievable.
~o0o~
The dry afternoon air hit Charlie the second she stepped out of the humid house her and Monroe had been living in. This is it. I'm going to save Miles, and that's that. She took her first step off the porch and continued down the trail away from the house, not once looking back. She had a mission- and she would not be coming back without Miles. Hell, she wouldn't be alive without Miles. No. All these Miles thoughts are just distracting and unhealthy. She pushed the thoughts from her mind and pressed on down the road.
Not long into her trip, Charlie heard the distant sound of feet pounding against the path. Trouble already. She took Monroe's sword from her belt and dove into the brush. No one would be taking advantage of her, not as long as she could help it. The footsteps grew increasingly closer, and she tucked farther into the brush. She knew she was hidden.
She waited for what felt like hours, until she heard the familiar click of a bullet falling into the chamber of a gun. She felt the barrel of a gun pressed against her head.
A gruff voice began to speak. "Stand up, now. You are on patriot territory." She rose up slowly from her hiding place, one hand in the air and the other holding the sword at an odd angle.
"Drop the weapon." Reluctantly, she did as she was told. This is happening, already? Damn whiskey messing with my senses. She felt a pair of strong hands wrap around her shoulders, and then a painful burn on her wrists as someone tied them with rope.
"Walk." Defeated, she fell into step behind the soldiers. This is it. I'm dead, and now I'll never know if Miles is alive.
Tears threatened to gather, but she blinked them away. Weakness will get me killed.
She knew because Miles told her so, back when they first went looking for Danny a year ago.
~o0o~
Monroe began to panic. Charlie wasn't anywhere in the house. He'd checked the shed, the kitchen, the bathroom, and even behind the sofa. The girl was gone without leaving any clue of where she went. He had failed Miles, and broke his last promise to Rachel. Charlie was gone. He grabbed the old backpack he'd found while looking for Charlie, and the few supplies he'd found while searching the house and the grounds for her. If he wanted to get Charlie back, his only hope was to go looking for her himself.