Charles Alblice has always led an ordinary life in Birchtowne. He enjoyed the company of his cousin, Quinn, and their best friend, Michael. The three lived their lives as carefree as any other teenager would.
But life in Birchtowne gets messy when...
ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
"Eighteen, nineteen, twenty! Ready or not, here I come!"
A giggle bubbled from Charles's lips just as the voice reached his ears. He shrunk further back into the closet. Quinn would never find him—his spot was perfect.
Playing hide and seek wasn't Quinn's favorite game, since Charles had always been the better hider out of the two. That was exactly the reason he loved the game, though. It was the one thing he could actually beat his cousin at and win consistently.
A shadow passed by the closet door, blocking all the light streaming in through the small cracks separating the door from its hinges. Charles laughed harder, fist stuffed in his mouth to muffle the sound.
The closet door swung open, and Charles held his breath as Quinn scanned the closet. The hidden boy shifted himself among the mass of clothes, burrowing back until he couldn't anymore. Through a crack in his makeshift shelter, he could see Quinn shoving clothes to the side as he searched. He squeezed his eyes shut just as Quinn lifted the sweatshirt helping Charles remain hidden, hoping that in doing so, Quinn would look right over him.
A few moments passed and the door swung shut. Charles opened his eyes, seeing his cousin's feet retreat beneath the crack between the door and the floor. He burst into laughter, clutching his pant legs in his fists as he sat there, shaking with the sheer gravity of his delight. It wasn't long before the closet was flooded with light once again, revealing Quinn jumping up and down with glee.
"I found you, Charlie! I found you!" he shouted, grinning from ear to ear.
Still laughing, Charles made his way out of the piled of clothes he'd hidden behind, careful not to topple any and risk a stern talking-to. "You looked right at me!"
Quinn frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "No, I didn't. I didn't see you in there at all, and I looked very, very hard!"
Charles closed the closet door and shrugged slightly. "I guess you didn't look hard enough, then." He pushed Quinn away before he got any chance to protest. "Now, hide! It's my turn to count!"
When Quinn took off running, Charles closed his eyes and started counting.
—•—
Charles was daydreaming again.
He was remembering a better time. He and Quinn were younger and life was simpler, with Charles in a loving home and Quinn with a good father. But wasn't that how life worked? With age came heaps of bullshit and a never-ending nostalgia for the golden years, when the only thing one had to worry about was sharing toys with other kids on the playground.
With age came that complication. Charles's parents were dead, and uncle Glen was a much colder, crueler man.His life had progressed from children's games of sorry or memory into one long, confusing game of chess. And Charles hated chess.
