Sprinkles {#Wattys2018} ✔

06 \ C A R A M E L

06 [c a r a m e l]

Bold is Asher Hughes.

Italisized is Charlotte Montgomery.

°°°

Charlotte pulled the grimy, cheap apron over her head and sighed with relief. Her intense employer, Michelle, seemed to take a liking to making her work some extra hours since Leo (a fellow co-worker) decided to not show up to work without any notice.

Her sunshine blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun, laying ontop of her head in a frizzy pile. She didn't bother to do her hair fancy going to work. Charlotte's jeans were ripped and tattered, her gray plain short-sleeve shirt awkwardly clinged to her torso and her filthy Vans' shoelaces were untied; she didn't realize that, though.

Making her way past the kitchen, she said a brief farewell to Michelle who grumbled a brief response. Today had been another long day for her, seeing as the same stranger had been calling the work phone without reason. Why would a boy, a complete stranger, keep calling her, you may ask?

People were just plain weird, Charlotte concluded.

She began walking home, moving past mobile or vacant cars and abandoned workshops. It was only six in the evening, so she didn't have to worry about her father's 9 o'clock curfew.

Soon enough, in less than 15 minutes, she stumbled across a building that she called had once called home. It was a small one, fit for a small family that only included Charlotte and her father. The paint of the house was a pale blue, chipping away from time. She had lived there all of her 18 years of life, shockingly.

Once entering and closing the squeaky front door she hated, she passed her father who was absentmindedly sleeping on the tattered maroon cushioned lounge chair in the living room. He was most likely unconcious due to the intake of alcohol.

Even though that was all he ever did, Charlotte was never abused or hurt by her father in any way. She couldn't help but to be  frightened by the issue, however. He was always drinking, and when he was drunk, he blabbered. He ranted on and on about his dead wife, and then he would get angry. Before she could hear or see anything else, Charlotte would go to her room downstairs.

Charlotte's father wasn't the one to hurt anyone. He used to be a kind and gentle man, who now knew nothing but grief and sadness his entire life. That was what ruined him, and Charlotte understood that and sympathized his pain. She knew that he would never hurt her.

He provided food and a place to stay, but most of the time he could never afford to cover the bills, which was the exact reason why Charlotte had been working at Jimmy's Ice Cream Parlour, just a couple blocks down the road. They gave her good money for her job and she got to eat free ice cream on Michelle's good days. She also worked at an ice skating rink on the weekends to earn just a little more.

Life was okay for Charlotte. It was never great, but it was just what she needed. High school would soon be over, and she could get into the college she wanted if she earned that scholarship. Granted the money that she needed, Charlotte had saved up thousands over the past decade from several jobs. Soon enough, she would be out of the small house and her father and into a better life.

She loved her father, she did. But there was a part of her that seemed to leave an empty hole gaping through her heart for him. She understood why her father was like this, but she didn't understand why it had to be this way.

Charlotte flopped face-first onto her bed with another heavy sigh. Looking up at the white ceiling covered with glow in the dark stars, she couldn't help but to wonder what a certain boy was doing.