Charlotte's Scars

Chapter 17 - Charlotte

Chapter Seventeen

Charlotte

Christian paced back and forth in his kitchen. His fists were at his sides clenching and then unclenching. He looked up at me and started to open his mouth, but snapped it closed and went back to pacing. This continued to happen but each time, he wasn't able to form a proper sentence.

Telling Christian what I've had to endure throughout my life was one of the hardest things I'd ever done, but finally confiding in someone lifted a heavy weight off my shoulders.

When we first got back to his house, he made me a cup of tea and we sat in the kitchen. Within minutes I was blurting everything out – of course, after witnessing what happened with my parents, he had a pretty good idea, but hearing me tell the stories almost sent him into a rage.

At first, I was terrified he might storm back to my house and do something I could never forgive him for, but he must have seen the fear on my face, or heard it in my voice because he was still here, and I'd finished tell him ten minutes ago.

I watched him from the breakfast counter while nursing my tea. Not only was I exhausted, but I was in pain, both physically and emotionally. Now that the adrenaline had subsided, my cheek throbbed and my heart ached. I was lucky the glass from the lamp didn't cut as deep as the betrayal did or else I'd be in the hospital right now.

Curling my fingers around the tea cup, I was surprised to find it cold. I pushed it to the side and shuffled uncomfortably on the wooden stool. Christian's silence was becoming unbearable, and I wasn't sure if I should continue to wait for him to find his voice, or give him privacy to contain his frustrations.

Biting my lip, I got down from the stool, but just as I began to turn around Christian reached for my arm. "Where are you going?"

His bright blue eyes were wide and worry lines stretched across his forehead.

I tried to smile reassuringly, but I knew it lacked conviction. "To the living room – I just can't sit here anymore," I said and placed my hand on top of his. "Do you know how hard that was for me to tell you about? And you haven't said anything for, like, ten minutes."

"I know," he admitted and as he took a step closer to me, he added, "And I'm sorry. I grew up with my cousins, and they always believed that if you have a problem, you handle it with violence. I'm just struggling right now because my initial impulse is to go back there – but at the same time, I know that's not what you want." He cupped my cheek in the palm of his hand and with a troubled voice, he said, "You've seen too much violence in your life, and I wouldn't be any better than them if I exposed you to more. I won't hurt your parents, Charlie – but I won't let them hurt you either."

I almost wanted to collapse with relief. He actually understood – he was able to look at me and know exactly what I needed. I'd seen more violence in seventeen years than most people saw in their lifetime. I didn't need to see anymore and I didn't want anyone seeking vengeance for my past abuse.

Looking into his soft blue eyes, I realized that all I needed was Christian. I needed him to protect and comfort me.

When he noticed the way I was looking at him, the green specs in his eyes brightened and it caused my heart to constrict. "Thank you," I whispered and coiled my arms around his neck.

He lowered his hands to my hips, and asked, "For what?"

"For understanding," I replied. "For following me to my house and not leaving when I told you to. For being here for me when I needed someone the most."