46. Charlie?
CHARLIE?
In just one terrifying second, I truly believed she hadn’t recognized me.
Her eyes drifted over my face, searching, almost indifferent, before settling somewhere beyond me—somewhere I couldn’t follow, some place that felt like an ache deep inside.
Then, without a word, she turned her back and disappeared into the shadows of the cabin, leaving me stranded in silence and confusion.
I stood there awkwardly, heart pounding, torn between chasing after her or staying put.
The ground beneath me was still half-covered in moss, and I slowly turned back to the cold stone, my fingers tingled as I cleared away the greenery and peered at the engraving.
But what I saw twisted my stomach into a knot—something soured deep inside me.
That stone wasn’t just ancient and weathered; it was her headstone. Lilly’s grave. The weight of it hit me like a punch to the chest. I was about to retreat in shock, but my back collided with Charlie’s, and in that moment, I saw her face—a mask of unreadable emotion, impossible to decipher.
She gripped a thick coil of rope in her hand, and my entire body clenched with a surge of dread. “What are you doing?” I forced out, my insides twisting into a sharp knot that threatened to break apart.
No response.
“Charlie?” My breath hitched as she grasped my wrist, and I searched her eyes intensely, longing to find some flicker of recognition, some hint of the person I once knew.
“Hold still,” her voice was eerily calm, so composed that I questioned whether I had heard her right.
A nervous laugh escaped from my lips, almost hollow.
“I can’t let you wander anymore,” Charlie said softly but with a hint of something else.
Inside me, a scream erupted—an instinctual cry to run, to fight—to pull away from this nightmare. But my mind faltered, paralysis overtaking me, and I couldn’t move.
“Why?” I asked, worry and confusion bleeding into my voice, as she finally pulled the knot of the rope tight.
It burned against my wrist, a bleak cry escaping me as she pulled tight.
I clawed at my arm with urgency as she threw the rope around one of the upper branches.
The knot was too tight, there wasn’t enough time to undo it.
“Charlie, please, you have to stop. I love you so much,” I begged, tears streaming down my face and hitting the ground with a sorrowful splash.
But she never looked at me. Not even a flicker of recognition.
She stayed silent, gripping my other hand with a fierce determination as she began winding the rope around my right wrist. I wept uncontrollably, feeling helpless and betrayed as she forcefully pulled my left wrist away from my right—binding my arm again to the unforgiving upper branches.
“Charlotte,” I sobbed out my voice unsteady, my heart aching for her to see me, to understand.
She pulled the rope so tight, lifting me high into the air until my feet barely skimmed the ground beneath me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—narrowing my tear-clouded eyes and watching her mournfully.
“Please, Charlotte, stop this,” I choked out, sorrow crackling in my voice.
Her feet moved closer, and she was so close I could see the flicker of her eyes before her hand snapped across my face with brutal force, my ears ringing from the blow. Pain burst through my cheek, and my head whipped to the side, tears blurring my vision.
“This is for your protection,” she purred softly, her silhouette dissolving into the curtain of willow branches, leaving me there—vulnerable and broken. Tears traced paths down my face as I took a sharp uneven breath, battling the ache of loss and love intertwined in this heartbreak.