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Chapter Twenty-Nine
Raven
Finally! I’m allowed to head home today. Some things never change; hospitals make me crazy. It’s only been - what? - two days, but I’ve already had enough. I just want to get out of here…although, I’m not going to lie; I’m not totally comfortable with heading ‘home’. I’d never say anything to the boys, especially with Thorn trying to offer to buy me a new place, but I’m dreading going back. I can’t move though, where would I go? And I meant what I said about not uprooting Phoenix. She loves her room, the space, the garden. No, I’ll suck my discomfort up, for her.
The police came to talk to me yesterday and it was tough. Way tougher than I expected it to be. I didn’t want to be alone and I certainly didn’t want to relive that night. Between the doctors physically poking and prodding me, to the police probing me for answers, I feel completely wrung-out.
For me, the hardest part was facing how useless and stupid I was. Why didn’t my training kick in? After what felt like a lifetime of running and looking over my shoulder, why was I suddenly complacent? I feel so stupid. Embarrassed. Angry with myself.
Ashamed.
Thankfully, the police officers were understanding and supportive; I didn’t feel judged at any point. I expected to have to defend myself, to prove I was somehow the victim, but it wasn’t like that at all. That was a relief; I don’t think I had the fight left in me to plead my innocence. They assured me that Charlie wouldn’t get away with this - no matter who his family are. That helps me to feel a little better anyway.
But there’s a part of me, a dark little voice in the back of mind, that’s been whispering to me. That maybe, this is my fault. This is karma for the fire. For Michael…
I’m pulled from my thoughts by a gentle knock at the door. Assuming it’s one of the guys returning from lunch, I call for them to enter. Only it isn’t them.
“Charlotte,” a familiar voice says and I cringe away from the name, the memories it now invokes. “Charlotte, can I talk to you?”
Charles Snr doesn’t wait for my reply, entering my side room and closing the door behind him. The click of the handle snapping back into place causes a cold sweat to break out all over my body. My heart rate rises.
It would seem that I don’t relish the idea of being shut in a small space with any of the Cox family. My pulse is so loud I can hear it beating in my ears. I feel like the walls are closing in on me and my breathing gets shallow and pained.
“Charlotte, I am so so sorry for what has happened to you,” Charles begins. A foolish person could be tricked into thinking he was being genuine, but the twisting in my gut tells me otherwise. He wants something.
I frown slightly at his wording. Is he trying to distance his son from what he did? ‘Happened’ makes it sound like an accident. That’s not how it went down at all. His son did this to me. Made a conscious decision. Actually planned it and broke into my house to execute it. The only thing I don’t know, is how far he planned to go, or would have gone, if Rebel hadn’t saved me.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap, gasping for breath.
“Sorry, what?”
“I said, don’t call me Charlotte. I don’t ever want to hear that name again after your son...he…” The violent shakes that overcome me prevent me from speaking.
“I’m sorry. So sorry. Please know I am absolutely appalled by what Charlie has done.” I watch as he hangs his head in shame. It would seem that he can’t bring himself to say the words either. “But I’m here to beg you, Cha-, I mean, please. Please don’t press charges.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“You don’t want me to press charges against your son?”
“He has his whole life ahead of him. I promise, I will make him spend it repenting for what he has done, but please don’t take away his future.” I’m so incredulous, I can’t even speak. “He swears it was a prank that got out of hand.”
The fuck?
“What, exactly, did Charlie say happened?”
“He said that he - stupidly, I might add - broke into your house to try and convince you to take him back. That he surprised you at the top of the stairs and you both fell. He’s scared you’re going to press charges for the breaking and entering.”
I almost want to laugh. It’s actually a painful bubble that lodges in my chest.
“How did both my wrists get slit, if we tumbled down the stairs?” I ask quietly. Is this the panicked desperation of a cornered, broken man, or is this a cleverly crafted plan? What’s his excuse for my unique set of injuries?
“S-Sorry?” Charles stutters, though I’d bet my life that he heard me.
I thrust out my bandaged wrists for him to see.
“How did this happen as we fell?” I repeat. I take a deep breath and continue, “and when we fell, how did that result in him…trying to...r-r-rape…” I swallow hard. I can’t finish the sentence. I close my eyes and painful memories assault me. Snapping them back open again, I see that Charles Snr has gone deathly pale.
“W-what?” He stutters in disbelief.
