𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃─𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬

three.

─☼☼☼─

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙊𝙏𝙏𝙀 𝙒𝙊𝙆𝙀 𝙐𝙋  the next day with a headache. She wasn't entirely sure if it was from the copious amounts of alcohol she had consumed the night before, or from the general malaise she seemed to be feeling since she had returned home. 

Whichever it was, she knew she felt like shit. 

She had spent half the day in bed. By two o'clock she had managed to drag her tired body into the shower and by four o'clock she had started unpacking her various suitcases that had been left untouched from the day before. 

At six o'clock, Kie called her and filled her in on the current status of the mystery solving. Apparently they were going diving for the wreck. 

Charlotte had excluded herself from this act ─ not at all feeling up to leaving the house let alone searching for treasure. 

In her nineteen years of life, Charlotte Carrera had never once felt so aimless. 

She wanted to do something ─ but she also didn't want to do anything.

So she settled for sitting on the end of her bed, clothes strewn around her as she attempted to get her life together. 

As she folded up one of her shirts, her eyes scanned her once neat room. Every aspect of it was put together. From the perfume bottles on her dresser, to the pictures perfectly lined up on the walls. 

Honestly, she kind of hated it. 

Standing up, Charlotte discarded the folded shirt as she moved toward the dresser. With a small sigh, she opened the drawer and pulled out the photograph she had shoved in there the day before ─ the one of her and Rafe.

She stared at it for a long moment, recalling everything they had gone through in the last four years. 

Truly, Rafe Cameron had been the love of her life. 

Their relationship hadn't always been perfect ─ far from it most of the time ─ but that was partly the reason it worked so well. She made Rafe better and he made her ─ well, he made her feel right. 

But like most things, it had fallen apart. Rafe had changed so drastically in the year that college started, she could barely stand to have a single conversation with him. Half the time they spoke, he was either drunk or high out of his mind. 

Sometimes Charlotte wondered if he even remembered her breaking up with him. She was pretty sure he had been high when that had happened, too. 

"Fuck you, Rafe." She whispered, flinging the picture frame at her wall. 

It shattered and in doing so broke the silence that had settled across the Carrera house. Charlotte had no idea where her parents were, she hadn't left her room long enough to find out. 

With a new dent in her wall and one in her heart, Charlotte flopped down on her bed with an exasperated scream. 

For two months she had tried to pretend that breaking up with Rafe was for the best. She had put on a nonchalant smile when people asked her how she was doing, brushed it off when she heard stories of Rafe with other girls.