I heard a loud, ragged knock on the door.

I was the only light sleeper in this family.  My head snapped up, and I ran to the door, checking who it was.

Sam?

Sam's brown hair was flopped against his forehead, panting evident in his body.  

I opened the car door.  

"Hey, Sam?" I called.

"Charlotte?"  he asked.

"Hm?" I replied, my sleep not yet dissolved from my voice.

"Thank God, you're here, I was going to ask Peter for some help," he said, hugging me tightly.

My eyes widened.  I pushed him off slightly.

"Why?"  I whispered.

"I felt bad.  Just the thought of you lying down in a dirty alleyway while I'm in a clean bed.." his voice trailed.

We stayed silent for a little.

"Well, I'd better go."  he said, turning to leave.

But my voice surprised me. 

"I'm ok, Sam.  I'm fine." 

Sam turned his head, and gave me a wary smile.

That boy ran everywhere to look for me.  

For me.

When did I gather so much people who cared for me?

-

I couldn't sleep that night.  

By that,  mean I didn't even try.  Just the thought that-

Maybe I had found where I wanted to be.  In high-school, not running place to place, spending my days looking for something to eat, maybe to steal.  My world was twisted up, and now?  It's slowly unraveling.  I don't exactly know if I should be afraid.  But I wasn't afraid.  Which made me afraid.  

Does this make sense?

I'm delirious right now.  Literally my life has become a big ball of tangled yarn ever since I decided to walk into that high-school.

I got kidnapped.  Sam died.  Sam came back to life.  I found out Peter has the same past as me.  I made a friend.  

It's too much.  And sometimes?  I feel like I want out.  I want to be free.  Of everything.

-

I woke up, feeling cheery.  Winter break- I love you.

It was only 9:00 am.  I was surprised that I hadn't slept over, yesterday, I went to bed late.  That party was absolute hell.

Charlotte.

She was in my freaking car, that stubborn woman.  It was so hard to convince her to do something.

I put on some decent clothes, finger-combing my hair, and walked out into the cold New York air.  

It was snowing.  

White Christmas would be nice.

I peered inside the car window.

Charlotte was gone.

My heart raced.  I tried to calm myself down.

Slow down Peter.  No one can touch her, she's a big girl.  Maybe she went to the bathroom.  Or needed fresh air.

I opened the car door, slowly, but my movements quickened, when I spotted a small letter.  It was written on the back of a piece of math homework.

I smiled at her handwriting.

Dear Peter,

First of all- I just want to thank you for everything you've done for me.  It's truly been a great few months.  I've loved every second of it.

But as they say, all good things come to an end.  Or in my case, all bad things come to an end.

I'm the bad thing.  

You see, Peter, I'm not fixed like you are.  I'm still broken.  Heck, I was just in the hospital a few months ago.  I'm traumatized forever.  I'm in peace with that too.  I'll never be healed.  Which is the reason why I'm not good for you.  Good for anyone.  

Not Julie.  Not Sam.  Not Eli.  And not you.  

I know you like me.  It's written all over your face.  But you need to let go of me.  

Your crush is kind of adorable.  

I never told you about what happened in that room, when I was captured by Bing.  

What you don't know is that Sam's parents were there.  They were with Bing.  Obviously, they had told Bing to do stuff for them.  There was a taxi driver when I was working for Bing.  He took my package I was delivering, and that was the "reason" why I got kidnapped.  That I had stole drugs.  

But later I learned.  I learned that he was ordered to kill me.  

My parents were good people, Peter.  They wanted good.  But what happened when they found out their best friends, the Caddells, had committed fraud?  

They were going to report.  They were going to serve justice.  

Prosecuting jobs are dangerous.  

The Caddells knew that I was still alive.  I was supposed to die with them.  Their inheritance would have been given to me. And it was freaking a lot.

3 million dollars, Peter.

Three freaking million.

But my parents had put it in their will.  If not me, the Caddells.

So when Child Services couldn't find me, the Caddells told them I had died too.

They freaking believed it too.  That I was dead.

It was probably for my good anyway.  They stopped looking for me.  And that meant freedom from one more.

But they're still looking for me.  At least my body.

That three million is in their fingers.  Probably used it all or something.

Ok, now, I know you're fuming with anger.  Don't kill Sam.  He only found out later.  

Anyway, I got hurt bad, Peter.

Tortured for weeks.  Constant.

Left alone in solitude.  

Harassed.  Mocked.  Broken.  

I thought I was going to die.  I wouldn't have minded it either.

But the thing is- I would have minded it if I knew that you were going to be in my life.

I would have fought harder, if I knew that I would be spending time with a friend.  And I'm not talking about Julie.  

During those weeks where I was recovering, they were the happiest moments of my life.

Talking about the most random stuff- books, board games, movies.  

I was a burden to you and your family, I know it.  But I enjoyed it.  I'm so stuck up. 

We bonded then Peter.  I felt it.  And I was so, so scared.  I was freaking afraid.

But tonight, I've come to a conclusion.

You make my life better, Peter. 

I know that I don't show it well, I can't.  But Peter, you've done more for me than anyone has ever done for me before.  

So if you care, don't come looking for me.  Because I'm not coming back.  Ever.  

I'm gone.  Peter, I'm gone.  You won't find me.

I'm sorry.  I'm so, so sorry.

-Charlotte