Chapter 8: Jacqueline I sat in my office, unable to sleep. My stomach hurt, but not because I was sick—no, this was for a reason. Two reasons. First, Crimson. Why did he have to stoop so low? Why did he have to mention my dad's death? I wouldn’t, in a million years, have mentioned his sister, so why did he bring up my dad? My dad died eight years ago when I was ten. We were in town for Charlotte’s birthday. Mom wanted to see her since it was her eighteenth birthday. She had really wanted to see Charlotte every birthday, but Charlotte's dad always said she didn’t want to see her. But this time was different; this time, Mom didn’t care what he said. She wanted to see Charlotte, even if Charlotte didn’t want to see her. We walked through town with no problem. Dad could blend in when he wanted to, even if he rarely did. But when we almost got to the house, a girl saw my dad and yelled. She knew who he was. They rushed in, grabbed him, and hanged him that same day in the court square. Later, I found out who that girl was—it was Charlotte. My own sister got my father hanged in front of me. I guess you could say it was a birthday gift for herself, splitting my family in half. That was one reason my stomach hurt. The other was Lucas. He said I was his friend. I had thought he might like me—I had thought I’d seen a look in his eye when he went off to his own world. I thought he had been thinking about me; I had been hoping he was. But then he called me his friend. I had finally let down the walls I’d built around me, and then he went and made me lower them, only to call me his friend. He saw me as a friend. I guess I misread him. There was a knock on my door. I realized I had stayed up all night. Great. Today would be fun, I thought, grabbing my hat, revolver, and sword. I put the revolver and sword in my belt and placed the hat on my head. “What?” I said to whoever was behind the door. “We need to talk,” she said, walking in and over to my desk. Of course, it was the last person I wanted to see: Charlotte. “What do you want, Charlotte?” I said, not looking up from some random paper on my desk. “Jacqueline,” she said, slamming her hands on my desk. “What?” I replied, looking up. She looked mad at something, and if we’re being honest, it was probably me. “Leave him out of this,” she said, not removing her hands from my desk. “Who are you even talking about?” I said, sitting back in my chair and resting my head on my hand. “You know who I’m talking about. I’m talking about Lucas. Leave him out of whatever mind game you’re trying to play against me,” she said. I shook my head. “Not everything’s about you, Charlotte. And what do you mean, Lucas? Yeah, the kid’s nice. He asked me to show him the flip thing I did to him,” I said, sitting up and crossing my arms. “You and I both know what I’m talking about. He thinks you’re an angel, can do no wrong. He’s a good kid, and all you’ll do is drag him down with you,” she said. What did she mean, I was going to drag him down with me? Did she think my friendship was like a snake’s bite, poisoning him over time? “Look, Charlotte,” I said, “by this country’s laws, he’s a grown man, which means he’s allowed to make his own decisions. And if one of those is being my friend, then that’s his choice, not yours. Now, could you please leave?” I gestured toward my office door. Charlotte looked at me but stayed quiet and left. I sat back down. If the rest of my day isn’t better, I swear I’m going to lose it. A sleep-deprived pirate is not a good thing.
QOTD : Do you want a chapter from Charlotte's perspective?
