Just Hold My Hand

Chapter Two- Charlotte (child)

Charlotte at 7 years old- (Charlotte's P.O.V.)

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Daddy! Stop yelling, please! Mommy, do something please? Why did he have to yell? So loud, so full of hate. It made me wonder day and night what I did so wrong. Must have been something really bad, Mom never had anything to say in my defense. She just watched and listened. Even when it got out of control, and he hit me, she would watch. I never forgot what her face looked like when he would hit me. A mixture of anger, regret, and total helplessness. He would hit her too, I knew. Now I know. At seven years old though, the insecurity sets in fast.

I never yelled back at my father, I never tried to resist when he hit me. I didn't even cry. I couldn't cry. That would mean he won. He could never win. I held in the tears, not showing one bit of weakness. I tried looking as strong as a seven year old girl could look. I was awfully small, which didn't help. I looked too much like a "pretty girl" for my liking. Oh, why couldn't I have been born a boy? That's what my father had wanted in the first place. Someone to carry his name for him or something. All I knew was that apparently, girls weren't strong enough to carry their name. Only boys could do that. Oh, how I wished I was stronger. I was too weak, and my father hated me for that.

I felt a sharp slap across my cheek. I winced and then fell backwards. My head slammed into the hardwood floors, and my ears started to throb painfully. I was squinting my eyes, fighting the tears. I could only get out a whimper before I was being yanked to my feet by my hair. I squealed in protest, but he ignored it. When he dropped me on my feet, I fought to steady myself so I would not fall again.

"Dumb brat, you better behave, or else! We've got some new neighbours now, and if I hear some much as a breath of any trouble from you, I'll make sure it never happens again." His breath stank of beer. My mother was standing in the corner, weeping helplessly. He shoved me backwards away from him. I almost fell again but managed to stay vertical.

"Go outside now...Now!" He barked at me, after I hesitated one second too long. I jumped a little at his order, but hastily headed for the backyard. I grabbed my favorite doll by the door, and let out our dog Brutus. It was raining, but I really had no choice to stay inside. Oh well, it's only rain.

I clung to my doll, and braced myself for the cold water that would surely be splashing against my face. When I was finally outside, I was surprised by the warmth of the rain. I chose not to question it, and headed straight for my sandbox.

What had my father said about new neighbours? I always liked new people, they couldn't judge you on what they already know, only what you tell them. Maybe if they have children, I can make a friend. All the kids at school already know about what my father does to me, so they choose to stay away from me. They never come over to play either.

I absentmindedly glanced toward the new neighbours backyard. At first I thought I saw wrong, because of the rain. After clearing my eyes of water though, he was still there. His over sized head coming to just above the fence, his hands gripping onto it so as not to fall over. I'll never forget that first sight of him. He was drenched, and the thought of it makes me laugh.

He was staring back though. I was unsure what to do. At seven, being social with boys was rare. I stood timidly, and slowly walked over. I was too short to see over the fence, but he was able to look down at me. I smiled at him shyly, and he returned it with a lopsided goofy grin of his own. I couldn't resist the giggle that escaped my lips. His smile fell a bit, so before I could hurt his feelings too much, I started,

"Hi." I was a little too quiet, but her heard me anyway. His grin returned, and he replied,

"Hi. I'm Andrew... Call me Andy though." He grinned bigger, if that was possible, and I returned the favor with a grin of my own. I answered him then,

"Hi Andy, I'm Charlotte. I guess you can call me Charlie? No one really does, but you can if you want." I offered, not really used to nicknames. He shook his head vigorously and replied with a firm,

"No, I like Charlotte, it's a pretty name. I'll call you Charlotte." He smiled kindly at me, something I was not used to, and I wasn't really sure how to reply. I decided to ask the question that first popped in my mind,

"Do you want to be friends?" I smiled widely at him, hoping with all my being he would say yes. I needed a friend. Some one to talk to to, to play with, and lean on. He was like my silver lining in the storm. The light at end of my dark tunnel. He could be my friend.

It may have been my imagination, and low self esteem, but her seemed to falter on the word friend. I racked my brain for a better word. Maybe that was too forward? Before I could change my offer though, his smile returned full on and he cheerfully replied,

"Yeah!" Than his goofy grin seemed to permanently plaster itself to his face. I could help smile widely in return. I also felt a sudden surge of joy. I had friend. A real friend. He would only know what I chose to tell him, and only judge me on what he knew. I had to be careful what he found out, but I was too happy to care about that. With our grins still in tact, I waved a small good bye, and said,

"I'll come out to play tomorrow, can I come over?" If his grin was huge before, it was splitting his face now. He nodded vigorously and waved a good bye to me. Once he left, it felt as if the sun had set. I lost the warmth of his presence.

I truly felt excited to see him tomorrow, and hopefully every day after that.

I had a friend.