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𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒚-𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 | 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽𝔂'𝓼 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻
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𝘘𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐'𝘮 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯' 𝘏𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘮 𝘖𝘯 𝘔𝘺 𝘖𝘸𝘯
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"CHARLOTTE, LOOK AT ME. LOOK at me!"
She finally acknowledges Chris Argent's urgent voice and she slowly looks over to him, her vision blurred by the tears that have been streaming in a continuous flow for the last twenty minutes. "What?"
He ignores her sharp tone and places his hands on her shoulders. They lock eyes. "You have to remember that you called me first, okay?" When she nods in response, he realises that she's still in a dazed-like state of mind, so he repeats his words more firmly. "Say it. You called me first."
"I called you-"
"No. Not 'you.' Say Chris, like you normally do, or her dad."
Charlotte screws her eyes shut as her heart rate picks up at the mention of her. "Okay," she whispers. She stares down at her hands. The colour red has been ingrained into her mind. All she had been seeing for the last hour is blood. It has been stained onto her hands, refusing to return to its pale colour as if someone had tattooed it onto her.
