By the time I had explained my little story, Peter was trying to hold tears back.

I looked at him, touching my cheeks, realizing there were not even one bit damp.

I hated myself for it.  I was so numb.  I was so inhumane to everything.

"You know, our stories are kinda similar," he said, after he had calmed down a little.

I nodded, even though there was nothing to nod about.

"Kids!  Come down for dinner!" a voice called.

Peter helped me down the stairs, almost toppling over the railing.  We let out a small laugh, sitting down at the table.

I instantly felt out of place.

I mean, who was I to be sitting at this table?  Sure, Peter put up a great argument, but I-

I could have just hobbled away, minding my own business.

But here I was.  Intruding and eating at this family table.

A family I wasn't part of.

"What are you waiting for?  Eat your food," Peter joked.

Sergeant Madden was currently chasing down someone, so it was only Peter, his adoptive mother, and me.

I shoveled down the food, excusing myself, trying to be polite.

I frantically ran to the bathroom, immediately collapsing onto the floor.

I had to get out, this wasn't good.  It wasn't good for anyone, me, Peter, his family.

Sure, I would be pretty safe here, but to put Peter in this type of spider web would be something I'd never forgive myself for.
And I've done lots of bad things.

I mentally counted how much people were after me, trying to reason with myself.

Child Services.

Bing.

Murderers. 

People.  People I don't want to think about.

Oh, I forgot Trevor. 

I pulled the hairs on my head, slowly rising to my feet.  I glanced at the mirror. 

The reflection.  The reflection was something I was not prepared to see.   I hadn't seen myself clearly in such a long time.

My blue eyes were swollen, one of them almost shut.  My hair was long and tangled, the ends shattered.  My face and body were littered with purple bruises, my arms scarred.   I looked totally lifeless.

I was scared of myself.

I was really, really scared.

Peter finally coaxed me to come out and get some rest.  I laid my head on the pillow, unused to the softness of the sheets and mattress.  

I thought of sleeping on the floor, but I went against it, remembering my days in captivity.

My body being slammed to the floor.  My tears sporting fresh streaks across my face.  My head bumping the concrete floor.  Blood on my own hands.

I pulled the sheets over my head, wanting to forget everything.  I questioned myself.

Why Charlotte?  Why would you let yourself get into such a mess?

I didn't fall asleep that night.  

I mean, it was like a half sleep thing.  My body was resting, but my mind was awake.  I could hear everything, my thoughts were swirling in my brain, and tears were still threatening to fall.

I heard a sharp knock on the door.  

"Hey Charlotte, I'm going to school."  a deep voice said, muffled behind the door.

I shot up in my bed.  "What?"

Secretly, I didn't want Peter to go to school.  I would be in the house alone.

Alone with myself.  Alone with a freaking monster.

"I'll go with you," I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth.

"WHAT?"  Peter whisper yelled.  "You're going to school?"  

I opened the door.  I nodded in his face, closing the door again to get changed.

I wasn't going to risk myself.  Cause at this point, I couldn't even trust myself.

I really did my best to look good.  You might think a light grey sweater and jeans might look acceptable somewhat for high-school, especially in December.  But on me, it looked like I was some kind of Halloween creature.

My hair was tamed for the most part, the tangles brushed out, my face was clean, but it didn't help the fact that bruises and cuts were still visible, neck up.  I also couldn't see out of one eye.  I looked very, very, beautiful.  Very beautiful.

I opened the door, to find Peter waiting for me.

"You look great," he lied.

I rolled my eyes, grabbing my backpack.  

"Are you sure?" he asked me.

I didn't answer him.

We walked silently out the door, into the snowing season of New York.  He opened the door for me, and I sat, shivering from the chilliness.

I heard him open the trunk, and he tossed a thick winter coat at me.

"Here, wear this.  Keep it too, I don't need it," he said, sitting the car himself.

"No, no, Peter, I'm fine-" 

He stared at me in disbelief.  "Just take it, will you?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, folding the jacket and placing it in my lap.  "Thanks,"

He didn't answer as well.

Maybe I was rubbing off him.  

We arrived at the school, and I shrugged the jacket on. 

It was really heavy on my frail shoulders, the blazer falling down to my knees.  I rolled the sleeves up a few times, before I pulled the backpack on.

"You look absolutely adorable," Peter joked in a girlish voice.

I shoved his arm, wincing in pain shortly after.

He stayed glued to my side as we walked in.  My crutches made clicking noises, as  I did my best to walk smoothly.

Instantly, stares were poured on top of me.  

Well, some people were too busy to take the time, but I could definitely hear the whispers.

What happened to her?
Maybe she got into a cat fight!

She's such a pick-me.

What's Peter doing with her?

A voice interrupted my intent listening.

"OOH!  What do we have here?"  a manly voice rumbled.

I shoved him out of the way, letting out a whimper of pain.

"Go away Trevor," Peter said.

"Hmm, why should I? I haven't forgot our little clash, so cliche, am I right?" he said sarcastically.

"Ha!  You're mad cause of a shove?" I talked in his face.

He crossed his meaty arms.  "What happened to you?" 

I rolled my eyes.  "What happened to you?" I mimicked.

I pushed my way out of him with my crutches, Peter following me.

But before I could open my locker, I saw Julie standing there.

Oh right, Julie.

She opened her mouth and closed it again.

But then, she walked away, sadness evident in her steps.

I touched my backpack, full of clothes and articles she had given me.  I was just lucky she didn't take them back.  But she had taken our blooming friendship with her.

I didn't deserve any of this.  But I had still had it.

But now, I had lost it.

At lunch, I felt gazes boring into my freaking skull. Julie seemed to be one of them.

I mean, she did have reasons to hate me. I had slept over at her house, taking her sisters clothes, being an absolute burden to her. And to top that, I had just disappeared for like a month. I think we were friends.

Were.

At least Peter sat with me. He glared at everyone who looked my way, making me laugh inwardly. I had survived three years without anyone, why was I so needy now?

I touched my swollen eyes, suddenly feeling a little self conscious.

"Hey, are you ok?" Peter said.

"Yea, yea, I'm good," I said, taking a nibble of the turkey dog.

"We could go back," Peter started.

"No, no-" I started, but by then Peter had already given up.

High school was safer than being alone.

Well at least in my case.

We were interrupted by loud stomps of feet.

"PETER!" a high voice shrilled.

I was expecting an angry girl, but it was a boy.

Um- what?

Peter looked at me, biting his lip. "Eli, what is it?"

Oh so this was Eli. Didn't Peter say he thought I was hot?

Well, scratch that.

"Why are you with my girl?" he said, obviously joking.

"Excuse me?" I asked, playing along.

Peter started to laugh at my expression.

I mean, he probably held that in all day long. I mean look at me. Swollen face, cuts and bruises.

"And what happened to you? I haven't seen you like for weeks!" Eli continued.

"I was around," I mumbled.

Peter told Eli to go back and sit down. I was grateful for that.
Peter and I kept talking, and he started to teach me a little bit of math. I enjoyed every single second of it. But I never showed it to him.

The day dragged on and on and on.

Surprisingly, no teachers picked on me. Not even the calculus teacher . I think they could feel the stress radiating off of me.

The students, not so much. Girls whispered. The rich kids snuck looks at me. I heard the rumors sneaking around.

I heard she's a street fighter.

I heard she works for drug dealers.

I heard she's leading Peter on.

But the real problem happened in my last class. A counselor came up to talk to me.

Yes. A counselor.

She tried to get some information out of me. Questions spilled out of her mouth one by one, as if she was an interrogator.

To be honest, she reminded me of Bing and his "henchman."

The "we're here for you," "this is a safe place," didn't do anything to me.

It actually creeped me out. A lot.

So I hightailed it out of there.

Well, not really. I was on crutches. But I tried to get out of there as fast as I could.

Peter met me outside, in the parking lot.

"Ok, you're not coming to school until you're all better." he told me.

"No." I said, sitting in the passenger seat, shoving the crutches at him.

"Then explain to me why you want to come!" Peter said, sitting in himself.

"Because I like school." I lied.

Peter knew I was lying. But he let it go.

5 Weeks Later

-

"Just stay a few more days," Peter begged.

I had already made up my mind. "You told me to stay until my leg heals. The plaster stuff is off.  It's been a few weeks, for heaven's sake!" I said, flinging my backpack on my back.

The Maddens had been incredibly hospitable to me. I could never repay them.

But it was time to leave.

"You'll come to school, right?" Peter asked, putting a hand on my cheek.

Through the weeks, Peter and I had become close friends. Closer than I would have liked, actually.

"Yea, I'll be there." I said, walking out the door.

Peter tried to smile. I chuckled at his face.

"I'd rather drive you to the shelter," he said worried.

"Don't worry about me Madden!" I yelled, jogging to the streets.

My face had completely healed, for the most part. Sure, scars had revealed themselves, and my mind and soul were definitely not healed, but I was back on my feet.

The 2000 dollars were gone though.

I would never forgive myself for it.

2000 freaking dollars. Lost.

"WAIT!" Peter yelled.

I turned around confused.

Peter ran to me, wheeling a red bicycle.

"Here, take this. It's an extra," he said.

I froze. "No Peter. You've done enough."
"Either take it or stay." Peter said.

I touched the bicycle, marveling at the beauty.

"Thanks," I whispered.

"Anything. Anything I can do, just tell me." Peter said softly.

I had learned how to ride a bike at 10, and I was pretty sure I still knew how to ride.

I hopped onto the bicycle, slung the backpack on the lump next to the headlights, before Peter could see me cry. He'd never seen my cry ever. But today, maybe he would.

Or maybe he wouldn't.

I didn't deserve any of this. This being friends. A bicycle. A backpack. Clothes.

I deserved nothing.

--

I wheeled to a small alleyway, which was pretty close to the school. Memories flashed in my head.

Alleyway sweet alleyway.

I was just grateful I had a freaking BICYCLE.

This meant no walking and saving my energy for better things.

I could never repay Peter. And his family.

There was another guy grumbling in his sleep woke up when I wheeled up to the alleyway.

I saw him move his body, and even though it was dark, I could see a liquid pouring out of him.

Blood.

I could smell it. The metallic smell.

I cautiously came closer to him, reminding myself that I couldn't trust anybody or anything.

I touched him lightly, trying to wake him up.

His eyes flashed open, the whites of his eyes showing.

I screamed loudly, running back to the bicycle.

I heard footsteps heave towards me from the other side.

Right when I was about to take off, a familiar voice called to me.

"Charlotte!"

It was Peter. He was probably out for his evening walk or something.

"What are you doing here? You said you're going to the shel-" Peter started, before spotting the guy slumped on the brick wall.

But what happened next surprised me the most.

"Char-harlotte-" the guy stuttered.

I knew that voice.

It was a voice I thought I would never hear again.

It was Sam.

Sam Caddell.