Charlotte
Chapter 3
Charlotte
T illie lives in a high-rise apartment, and I’ve never thought about it before, but how is she paying for this? This apartment has to cost way more than I can afford to pay her. As I come to her apartment door, I raise my hand to knock. The door opens, and standing in front of me is my fiancé, Eric. He’s wearing a white towel wrapped around his waist and has water dripping down his body.
“Charlotte?” His eyes widen as he steps back inside. You can tell by his face he didn’t expect me to be at Tillie’s door.
“Eric? What are you doing here?” Then it occurs to me. Tillie and Eric are seeing one another.
God, I’m an idiot.
Placing my fingers at my temples, I start massaging the ache as I take a deep breath. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”
“It’s not what it looks like,” Eric spits out nervously.
“Not what it looks like? Well, that’s good because it looks like you’re fucking my best friend.” My eyes are tearing up, but I refuse to cry and let him know how much they’ve hurt me. The hurt isn’t because I give a fuck about him. It’s Tillie’s betrayal that hurts.
“Is that the pizza, babe?” Tillie calls out as she walks around the corner. When she sees me, she doesn’t even have the good sense to look guilty but has the audacity to smirk at me instead.
“How could you do this to me, Til? Eric is my fiancé, and you are supposed to be my friend!”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Char. You were flirting with a guy at your store just a few hours ago, and you weren’t thinking about Eric then.” Tillie has the ugliest smirk on her face, as if she’s finally won whatever competition she’s playing. “Besides, I’m sick of you getting everything you want while I get nothing,” she spits, jealousy exploding from her pores.
“How long has this been going on?”
Tillie answers while Eric saunters off down the hallway. “Months. I’ve been fucking him for months. You haven’t been having sex with him, so I took up your slack.”
“Tillie, I was waiting until we got married. Trying to make it special. You’re nothing but a whore. I’m never going to forgive you for this.”
By this time, Eric is dressed and moving toward the door. “Let’s go home, Charlotte.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You think we’re going to your house together? I knew there was a reason I was holding off on moving in with you. I didn’t trust you.” My eyes widen in shock at what just came out of my mouth. I didn’t mean to say that out loud but he’s crazy if he thinks I’ll stay with him.
“Of course we are. We’re engaged, Charlotte. That’s not going to change, and it’s time you moved in where you belong, anyway,” Eric states confidently.
I swear, this fucker is delusional.
“Fuck off, Eric. We are no longer engaged. Here’s your ring back.” As the words escape my lips, a surge of anger courses through me, setting my body ablaze.
My hands tremble with a mix of fury and sadness, the weight of the engagement ring a painful reminder that I’m going to have to tell my father that there is no way in hell I’m marrying this asshole. I’ve been dodging Eric’s requests for me to move in with him, inventing increasingly elaborate excuses, and in this moment, I’m glad I didn’t give in.
As the weight of potential regret lifts, a wave of relief washes over me. Unceremoniously, I yank the ring off my finger, the metal feeling icy against my skin, contrasting sharply with the seething fire inside me. With a swift motion, I hurl the ring towards Eric, the act itself releasing a surge of cathartic energy. It’s such a relief that I don’t have to marry this idiot.
Tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision, as I storm out of the apartment. A knot forms in my throat, making it difficult to swallow the bitter taste of disappointment and betrayal. I’m not upset about Eric because I was only with him at my father’s insistence, but Tillie. I really cared about my friend, but looking back, I don’t think she cared about me at all. Losing her is what is causing me pain. Losing Eric feels like a relief.
The headlights cut through the darkness as I drive home, each sob a painful reminder of the loss of my friend; though, there’s not a single tear for Eric. That relationship was never even a real relationship. The furthest I let him get was to second base, and that was pushing my boundaries.
I skip dinner, Eric’s taunts echoing in the back of my mind, telling me I’m too fat and look like a pig. It’s like constant background noise in my head, and I hate that he still controls what I eat. It doesn’t help that he resembles my father in that way.
When I hit eight years old, I went through a phase of being pudgy. My dad sent me to fat camp and hired someone to put me on a strict diet and exercise regimen. He’s continued to control what I’ve eaten since, but it’s come second nature to me now—like a form of self-punishment. Sometimes I want to rebel and binge on a whole bag of candy or eat an entire pizza. The constant jibes from my father and Eric have caused me to eat even less than my usual, and my ribs are visible. Even with all of that, I still feel like I’m fat and not good enough. Do I know in my head that it’s wrong? I do. I just don’t know how to change it. Essentially, I’ve been conditioned to deprive myself, and now, I can’t help myself. The guilt I feel after indulging is too much to cope with on my own.
After a few hours of worry, I finally fall asleep but feel anxious about what’s going to happen at work tomorrow. What if Tillie shows up and acts like nothing happened? No way can I work with her again after what she’s done. She seemed so proud of herself for stealing Eric—who she mistakenly thinks is a prize. It’s going to be laughable when she figures out he isn’t worth losing a friend over. However, by then, it’ll be too late for me to forgive her. The damage is already done. I can’t allow her to come back into my business or my life, not being able to trust her ever again.
The next morning, I get dressed and go to work. I try to have a selection of drinks ready for the customers at the bookstore who like to browse while they have coffee. It’s a slow day, which doesn’t help my bubbling anxiety. Determined to keep myself busy, I shelve books, ship out online orders, and during the quieter periods, I even listen to an audiobook. When sundown hits and there’s nothing else to do at the store, I decide that’s enough and it’s time to go home.
Normally when I leave the store, either I leave before it gets dark, or Tillie and I walk out to the parking lot together. Tonight, it’s dark and I’m alone.
As I get closer to the parking lot, I pull out the key to unlock my car. Two men emerge from behind me, their voices hushed as they speak in rapid Spanish. A cold knot of dread, tight as a fist, clenches in the pit of my stomach. Ignoring the jeering laughter of the two men, I stride quickly toward my car, one of them catcalling as I try to ignore them. A primal fear grips me, and my body trembles violently in the inky blackness of the deserted parking lot; I desperately hope they’re just being jerks.
When I reach my car, a sudden hand grabs my neck, and I feel the sharp prick of something cold against my skin. “This one is pretty. Wonder if her pussy is as pretty as she is?”
“You know boss said you aren’t allowed to touch her.”
The pungent scent of cigar smoke wafts off one of the men and instantly makes me gag.
“Boss gets all the good stuff. He won’t know if I have a little taste. If Jefe wanted her untouched, he should have taken her himself.”
I feel dizzy and my body is slowly going down. As I hit the concrete pavement, one of the guys behind me starts yelling at the other again. Then, my head hits the hard ground and pain shoots through my body.
“Goddammit. He said he wanted her unmarked. You fucking idiot.”
“Hey, I’m not a fucking babysitter. You jabbed her, so you should have caught her.”
Despite the lethargy creeping through my body, I can still hear the two men talking.
I don’t understand.
Who is the boss?
What does he want with me?
Oh God, am I going to die?
Fear rockets through me and causes my heart to pound. I can’t move, almost feeling paralyzed, but my thoughts are racing.
The drug they injected me with is taking full effect, and I can’t resist its pull any longer. The world fades around me as my eyelids grow heavy, the sounds muffling and blurring into a hazy mess of indistinct whispers.