Charlie sat down against the trunk of a tree, holding himself, trying to choke back tears as he thought over their hopeless situation. "God, Claire," he whispered, "why does everything always happen to us?" He stared down at the sun-lines on his left hand. "It's too late." he said, and wiped his nose on the soiled sleeve of his hoodie. "It's too late for anything." He stared up at the canopy of leaves above him, not even trying to hold back the tears.

"God, Claire." he whispered. "Why does everything always happen to you?"