Dead and Departed

Chapter Two:

The phone rang and Charlotte dragged her feet out of bed. It was ten in the morning, and she hadn't gotten up yet. She'd been laying there ever since seven.

"Yes?"

"Charlotte?" Said a voice at the other end of the line. "Is that you?"

Charlotte sighed. "Yes, Brigitta. It's Charlotte."

"God, you sound awful! How about I pick you up and drive you over to a cafe or something?"

Charlotte's mood plummeted even more. Her voice took on an uncharacteristically dark tone. "I'm never getting in a car again."

"Okay, okay. But you should at least start coming to class again. You'll have to retake the year if this keeps up. How long do you have until you'll have to sell the house?"

"Not long." Charlotte admitted.

"You have to get a job sometime, you know." The phone crackled with static from the other end.

"I know." Charlotte's voice was bland. She couldn't seem to muster much emotion.

Brigitta sighed. "I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine."

"I know it must be hard, but you gotta get over it, at least enough for you to get a job and take care of yourself."

"I know." Charlotte chewed her lip, a nervous habit that she had been using a lot lately.

"Gosh dang it, Charlotte! Stop answering me in two-word sentences!"

"Sorry."

"What did I just say?"

"Not to talk to you with two-word sentences. But I didn't. Technically I only said one word there."

"Ha ha," Brigitta said sarcastically. "Like that really makes a difference."

Charlotte understood why Brigitta was so frustrated. Charlotte had cut them out from her life for so long. But she just... couldn't. She couldn't get into a car with her friends and play loud music. She couldn't go back to college with all the other students and classes and teachers. She couldn't go to a cafe and enjoy a latte. Not anymore. Not after all those possibilities and happiness had been stripped away so fast.

"Maybe it would help if you face it. Go into their rooms and clean up a bit."

"Brigitta," Charlotte interrupted. "I appreciate it, but just give me a little longer, okay?"

Brigitta sighed over the phone, breaking up slightly. "Okay, Charlotte. Talk to you later, then." Then she hung up.

Charlotte set down the phone, not bothering to hang it back up on the wall, and slid into an armchair, tired as if she had just lifted a mountain. It had been a year already. Why couldn't she get over it? She had to learn to... fly solo...

"Fly free, Char!"

But her wings were gone.

She would never, could never fly, only plummet. It was something she would have to get used to.