Page 222 of Because I Killed Him
Charlotte sinks into a chair, her shoulders drooping, her chin tucked into her collar. She stares at the floor, and the thoughts crawling behind her eyes are like spiders.
“I wish you hadn’t done it, Lore,” she whispers, her mouth twisting around the words. “I gave in to Rosamund enough times to know that for her, winning is about humiliating you.”
“I’m not humiliated, Char,” I say. “Believe it or not, I’d do it again. I’d swallow worse if it meant you were safe.”
She lifts her head, her eyes glassy as they meet mine. “I don’t deserve you.”
I move in and crouch in front of her, close enough to see the tears she’s fighting to hold back. “I think the same about you. And maybe that’s why we work.”
Charlotte lets out a soft, watery laugh and reaches for me, her arms wrapping around my shoulders. I hold her firmly, so grateful to still have her that, for a moment, nothing Rosamund or Edmund did matters at all.
“Why don’t we do something together before the Mensur?” I say as I pull away. “Just the two of us.”
Charlotte’s face brightens, ready to agree, when a bell chimes through the suite. My Pinkie opens the door, and Jack and Dickie step inside. Dickie wears a burnt-orange suit, wide-eyed and fidgeting like a cornered fox, while Jack is in his Fraternity uniform, even though tonight’s Mensur is still hours away.
“What are you two doing here?” I ask, watching them warily. Do Jack and Dickie know Edmund tried to make me take Bliss? If so, did they agree with his revenge? It’s hard to believe, especially after how close I’ve gotten to Dickie, but trust isn’t something I can afford to give away easily anymore.
I’m about to confront them when Jack cuts in, his face stretched with worry. “We came to check on you. Charlotte wouldn’t pick up.”
The moment Charlotte hears Jack’s voice, her body stiffens. She turns away from us in her chair and stares out the window. Jack rubs his jaw and frowns, as if confused by why she won’t look at him.
“Char,” he says softly, stepping behind her. “What’s going on, darling? Why’d you send Ed the drop request? Why do you want out?”
“What?” The word rips out of me before I can swallow it. She never told me she’s trying to leave Edmund’s entourage.
Charlotte stays perfectly still, as if she can wish Jack away if she holds her ground long enough. Then, finally, she turns, her eyes dull and flat with exhaustion. When Jack and Dickie spot the cuts on her face, both curse under their breath.
“Char.” Jack lifts a shaky hand toward her cheek. “What the hell happened?”
She pulls away, her voice eerily calm. “It doesn’t matter. And do you know why? Because I’mdone, Jack. I don’t want to see you tomorrow. I don’t want to see you next month. I don’t want to see you when you’ve drunk yourself so stupid that you come crawling to my suite, thinking I still love you. I don’t want to see you ever again.”
Dickie’s mouth drops open. I shake my head at Charlotte, advising her to wait until her anger cools, but she’s locked in a stare-down with Jack, who’s gone rigid with confusion.
“What are you talking about? What did I do?”
“It’s what youdidn’tdo. It’s what you’ve never done.” Charlotte lifts her chin, showing him the cut on her neck from Rosamund’s saber. “Do you know Rosamund threatened to kill me yesterday if Lore didn’t eat her monkey’s shit? And do you know that to save me, Lore did it?”
Dickie whirls on me, his mouth wide. “What the devil?Why?”
Jack staggers back a step, then another. Charlotte rises and stalks after him, relentless, as if blind to his horror, to the raw grooves of shock carved into his face.
“And what about myhair, Jack? Did you know Rosamund was the one who shaved it? Did you know she’s the reason I endured months of humiliation?”
Jack opens his mouth, his throat working, then chokes out, “What? How do you know—”
“Because she carved anRinto my skin with her saber. Right on the back of my head.” Charlotte closes the distance, her hands trembling at her sides, every word shaking with fury. “Well? Don’t you have anything to say?”
Jack freezes mid-step. Gradually, color returns to his face, his shock giving way to a steely edge. He straightens up, jaw clenched. “Yeah, darling. Why the hell didn’t you tell me any of this?”
“I told you I hated Rosamund more times than I can count.”
“Yeah, but not that sheattackedyou. What the fuck, Charlotte?”
“Did I really have to spell it out for you? It was all there, Jack. It always was. The only way you couldn’t have seen it was if you were trying not to.”
“I wasn’t trying not to see it. I was more drunk than sober, Charlotte. I was so shit-faced I was seeing double.”
“Then you should’ve seen ittwiceas clearly.”
