The Scars She Hides

Part 26 - Not Shy

HOLDEN

Like a magnet, I couldn't keep my gaze from drifting back to the hallway where my bag was leaning against the wall. To the front pocket where Charlotte's step father's obituary was stashed.

It hadn't taken long for campus security to show up and shoo me from the workshop after I had called it in. Charlotte to my surprise, was waiting for me on the curb outside her dorm building. She was bundled up in layers as if anticipating a sudden cold front to blow through the parking lot any minute. The hood of her dark green hoodie was pulled up around her face, her hair spilling out the front. The only skin visible was her nose and cheeks. Even her hands were covered up, the sleeves of her hoodie pulled down and balled up in clenched fists.

Not a good day then, if I had to wager a guess. What had made her leave the safety and comfort of her dorm room was a mystery. Usually i couldn't get her to leave the building until I had messaged her to let her know I was outside waiting, and I would see her peek through her window to verify this for herself before rushing out of the building. She was quiet as she got on the bike behind me, her hands only making an appearance to grip my shirt when I refused to move the bike until she held on.

Said hands were mostly tucked away now, only the tips of her fingers peeking out from the sleeves of her jacket as she held her fork. She pushed around her enchiladas on her plate, nodding along to Tiffy's story at the right intervals and humming when Tiffy deigned to breath and wait for a response.

Upon our arrival at my parents house Tiffy had ran out the front door as soon as Charlotte's feet made contact with the asphalt off the bike. Charlotte was pulled inside and all but dragged into the young girls room without so much as a hello thrown my way.

Charlotte let herself be led, but I could see the tense set of her shoulders and the reluctant look in her eyes as she glanced back at me.

When the girls had reemerged for dinner, Charlotte was more at ease than before. Her shoulders not hitched up to her ears and her hood had been pulled back, no longer hiding most of her face. There was still obvious signs of distress plaguing her if you knew where to look.

The finger twisting, constantly adjusting her hair to make sure her neck was covered, periodically itching and picking at her arms through her sleeves. I could tell she was getting warm all swaddled up in her jacket by the redness flushing her face and the slight dampness on her forehead.

Tiffy, ever oblivious, single handedly kept the conversations flowing for most of dinner. She rapidly switched from one topic to the next, jumping from person to person. This was fine until she noticed the food on her plate and switched her focus to cutting up her enchiladas and devouring them at record speed.

The sudden silence only lasted a moment before Bronson began asking questions about how classes were going. He aimed his questions toward both Charlotte and I, but didn't let his gaze linger on her for to long when she stayed mostly silent through the conversation.

For the short time I had known Charlotte I had seen her go through her quiet spells, this was something else entirely. Rather than her usual hyper vigilance and shifting eyes, Charlotte was almost zombie like in her movements. Every blink of hers was painfully slow. Charlotte looked like she could drop any moment, whether that be out of her chair or into her food was a toss up.

Gene somehow roused Charlotte out of her chair and into the kitchen to wash the dishes while Tiffy went to finish her homework before settling down for the night. Bronson and I were clearing the table, listening to the quiet murmurings from the kitchen while the dishes were rinsed and loaded into the washer.