Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not Newsies, not LOVE. NOTHING!
Title: Violence Recovery
Author: Buttons14
Genre: Drama
Rating: M (subject to change)
Goodbye mother…
Can you feel me like I feel you?
I don't want to kill time
I want it to live—Underworld; m.e.
Chapter 16—Charley
There is a window between the boys' and girls' floor. I was sitting on it with my knees to my chin, my back against the red brick. The window was frosty and the snow on the ledge was thick, soft, and undisturbed. My arms were covered in goosebumps all the way up to the sleeve of my black t-shirt.
Aurora came downstairs, humming and smiling. She gave me a half-wave and disappeared down the hall, her straight brown hair moving very little as she walked. I could see an almost-black birthmark on the back of her arm.
My window ledge was cold. I looked up the stairs, towards the girls' hall. The carpet was dark green and flat from constant wear; faded down the middle and richer on the outside. Unsocked feet came down the stairs.
"Hey," said Charley, "you stole my spot."
Her hair was full, the curls holding each other up so that they framed her pale face. Her neck looked terrible thin.
"Sorry," I said. I swung my legs down. "I'll leave."
Charley sat down next to me. Her jeans had a big hole above her knee, which was as pale as her face, but thinner and bonier. It jutted out of the hole like a soft round bone. I looked away, down to her feet, which were small and had whitish-pink crescents as nails.
"What're you doing here?" she asked.
I leaned my head against the brick wall. The stone was rough on my temple. "I don't know. Just watching." Out the window people were passing in the streets. Many were laden down with shopping bags. It was December 14 and Christmas was drawing near.
Charley turned a bit to watch too. "I like Christmas," she said. Her fingers brushed the windowpane, making the tips wet with condensation.
I leaned my head back on the glass. My hair stuck to the moist window. "Yeah, I guess I do too."
0o0o0
We had lasagna and Caesar salad for dinner. Medda was tired looking. Autumn wasn't at the table. We weren't talking very much. Jack had fallen into a half sleep; his fork was hovering between his mouth and his plate, his eyes glassy and staring forward.
Coin poured herself water from the pitcher. Crutchy eat with noticeably less zeal than usual. Charley was sitting next to me. Her eyes darted to Autumn's chair before she looked back down again. No one was smiling.
Not even Aurora. "Where's Autumn?" she asked.
Medda lowered her lasagna-loaded fork. "Autumn is sleeping."
Two days before, the day Autumn ran away, we were watching It's a Wonderful Life on TV. Medda and Denton were out looking for Autumn, so Jack and Skittery were in charge. They were making us vegetable soup and Pillsbury garlic bread. Ele, David, Coin and I were setting the table, minus three spots that belonged to Autumn, Medda and Denton.
Even from where we were downstairs we could hear the door swing open and bang against the wall. We stopped setting the table and listened. Feet traveled upstairs. We dropped what we were holding and headed for the steps.
Jack cut us off in the hallway. "Stay downstairs. Go finish setting the table and then we'll start dinner. What's going on up there is none of your business."
The footsteps stopped and then started again. They were slow and I had the idea that someone was being carried.
Half an hour later, when we were eating, Denton came downstairs, got himself a plate and ate without words.
Two days later Autumn still hadn't surfaced from her room. There was a gloomy atmosphere over the dinner table and the food didn't taste quite as good as normal. I didn't like the way things were turning out. Racetrack wasn't even sneaking looks at Sapphy from across the table. This was a low point. The togetherness that we had achieved since Thanksgiving was falling away and I feared what would happen when one of us had to leave.
0o0o0
The next morning I stumbled downstairs and poured myself I cup of coffee. I love the smell of coffee. It's so rich, comforting and full bodied. I brought my cup of coffee up to my room where I got a book, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, that Crutchy had lent me. Then, leaving Blink alone, who was sleeping on his stomach with his face pressed into his pinstriped pillow, I climbed to steps to the window ledge where I sat and read.
After a few minutes Charley came down and sat next to me. Charley looked very pretty just then. In a way I hadn't seen her before. I think everyone looks good after they just wake up because they are refreshed and natural. Charley's hair was even puffier and fuller than the day before.
"Can I have some?" she asked, pointing to my mug. I handed it to her and she took a few sips of my coffee. When she handed it back her blue eyes searched my face quickly before darting back down. I shut my book.
"Sleep well?" I asked.
Charley shrugged and pulled her the hood of her black Ramones sweater over her hair. "I had a dream."
I leaned over and put my book on the ground and then put the mug on top of it. "What about?"
Charley shrugged and looked out the window. Her eyes were framed with dark lashes. She pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her hands so that they hid her bitten, black-polished nails. "You wouldn't want to hear. Just go back to reading." She didn't look away from the window and I didn't bend over for my book.
"I do want to hear."
She turned her head and looked me straight in the eye. "Why would you want more of a burden? That's what it would be, if I told you, a burden." She paused and, almost whispering, "I wouldn't want to hear your story. It would be depressing."
It was like a slap in the face. I looked out the window and Charley followed my lead and looked out the window as well. I pressed my forehead against it and sighed. "It's like my therapy. You want to get it out, I want to take it in. It makes me feel like I'm not alone."
"That's ridiculous."
I shut my eyes. "How?"
"That's what they're always saying. It's what they're saying in all those TV shows. But when I tell Medda I feel terrible and I don't eat for days. I don't want to tell you."
I knew I should back off. I knew I should, but there was something about Charley. Something about her made me want to know what was wrong. "Haven't you even told Denton?"
We were both still staring out the window. I could hear her breathing. "I haven't told Denton. I can't tell him."
One of my dreadlocks fell from where they're held up by a blue elastic band that I had found in the kitchen. It grazed the side of my face. I brushed it back behind my ear. "Why not?"
Charley turned her head even farther away from me so that she was looking at the space where the window meets the brick. When she spoke her voice was muffled. "I can't trust men. I can't and I don't want to talk about it." She sniffed and wiped her face with the cuff of her sweater.
"OK," I said. "OK." I leaned over and picked up my mug and book. I took a sip, offered some to Charley and began to read. I had read almost a full chapter before she said anything more.
"I'm sorry Spot, but I just can't trust men. I can't." She looked at me. There were tears welling up in her eyes.
I shook my head and looked back at her. "Just look at me. Let it out. Say it fast."
Charley exhaled. What she said next came out in a jumble of words, mixed with gasps and sobs. "I don't know why he did it…right in front of me…and I cried and cried, and so did she…and I don't know why, I don't know why…I don't…his name was Harold…they got married when I was thirteen and I was the Maid Of Honor…she was so happy…and then, she was so…so…I remember the first time…he said he was sorry and that the bruises would heal, but not his broken heart if she left…my mother…she was….she was…a romantic; she fell for it…and he hit me…said I was fat, said it was disgusting…I would cry….I would cry for my daddy and he would tell me to shut up…and then my mom died…she died and he wasn't even there…he didn't even care, even though he put here in the hospital…he said no man would ever…would ever care about me…because I was fat and I was stupid and I was…I was trash…and men hate women like me…"
And then she began crying. She was crying so hard that I couldn't hear her. I reached over and touched her hand. "He was wrong. There's nothing wrong with you."
She just shook her head. Her eyes were squeezed shut but tears were still falling out, down the sides of her face and over her cheekbones. "Yes there is. There is. Things are wrong with me. And you just don't understand."
I reached up and took her face in my hands. "Charley," she shook her head out. I took her head in my hands again. "Charley, look at me. Look at me. My brother was killed right in front of me. Right in front of me by my mother's boyfriend. I understand. And there's nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all."
I wrapped my arms around her and she didn't resist. We sat like that for a while, Charley crying while I hugged her, shushing her and feeling my shirt grow wet with tears. When I finally looked around I saw Autumn sitting at the top of the steps, watching us.
End Chapter
((OK yawlll. (Yes, the 'w' is necessary.) I am so, so, so, so, so sorry that I haven't updated in forever-and-a-half! However, this was a long chapter so I hope this can hold you until I manage to drag myself out of the procrastinating mood I have been I for the last few months. Sorry that I don't give proper shoutouts, but I have been insanely absent-minded and I am just trying to churn out the fiction. I think that, at this moment, it is enough for me to have written this chapter. Please, if you are even still reading, review. Hopefully I will have the next chapter out sooner.))
Shoutouts:
Shooter O'Brien
Margie Driscoll
madmbutterfly713
FlatOutCrazy
C.M. Higgins
Kid Blink's Dreamer
COIN (Coin)