The Fox and the Flower

Nothing makes sense. Everything's blurry, colors are swirled together, and voices sound warped to my ears. The only thing that lets me know I'm awake is the feeling of someone lightly slapping my face. They're screaming at me, trying to get a message to me that I'll understand, but it's all just noise.

"Aunt Grace...the house...needs hospital..."

Those are the only words I can force my mouth to say. I just keep mumbling them over and over again, hoping that they'll understand. The worlds starting to fade again and my lips are barely forming the words now. Then I feel a giant wave of water consume my face and it's like someone just pulled me from the ocean floor. For a split second my senses feel alive and I can see everything clearly. Shirley's looming over me, wielding a now empty bucket, her eyes wide and on the brink of tears. Funny, I never imagined Shirley could cry. Looking around I've noticed she's pulled me onto her couch and there's a first-aid kit scattered all around the living room.

"My Aunt! She needs a hospital! You have to-"

"I know! That's all you've been saying for the past half hour..." She grumbles, wiping any trace of tears from her face. "My mom went to get her, she's probably checked in a room by now."

I lightly nod and for the first time that night, I can actually feel my heart beat at it's normal pace. You've done your part Charlotte... Without thinking, I make a move to sit up only to fall right back down as everything starts to become distorted again.

"You got any aspirin in that kit." I mumble, covering my face with my hand.

She hands me two of the pills and I force them down my throat. After that it's just pure silence and I can tell Shirley can't take it anymore.

"What the Hell happened." She states, not giving me the option of a question.

"Oh, it was just an accident." The words spill out of my mouth before I can even think about them and I mentally slap myself.

Why am I covering for that bastard? Tell her what happened! I open my mouth to try again, but my throat just gets tight and the words refuse to come out. She doesn't believe me, I know. It's written all over her face, but I can't bring myself to tell her the truth. Instead of shaking me to spit it out like I expect her to, she just puts her hand out. I look to her, the hand, and back again, confused.

"Your hand. I need to wrap it." She says flatly.

I give her my left hand and when I look down at it, I have to stifle a gag. It's swollen and painted all kinds of purples and blues that I didn't even know was possible on human skin.

"You mean to tell me that this was an accident." She holds my hand up so that I can get a good view at all the damage, but I don't say a word.

She squints at me, obviously irritated with my response, and starts wrapping my hand without a word. When she's done, the wrapping has compressed my hand to the point that it almost looks the same size as my other one. I mutter a thanks, but she doesn't say anything.

"What time is it?" I ask, trying a different subject.

"Almost three in the morning." She mumbles, putting the first-aid kit back together. "You're sleepin' here tonight, ya' understand."

I let out a 'mhm' and pinch the bridge of my nose as the aspirin starts to take it's effects. My eyes are starting to feel heavy and for once it's not because of some drastic injury. I take one last glance at Shirley then let my head sink back into the sofa. 'Just sleep Charlotte. Sleep, and dream about anything you want.' That's what my mother used to tell me when I'd try to stay awake even though I was really tiered. My eyes slowly close and a tear escapes my lids at the memory as I fall into the open arms of sleep.



The next morning I'm reminded by a rude awakening that I still have to go to school. Doesn't matter if my uncle beat me last night or that my aunts in the hospital, school is still there like a parasite in the back of my mind. Sucking every last bit of life out of me until I'm just a wandering corpse through the halls. Shirley has returned to herself for the most part, seeming to pretend like last night didn't even happen. But when we get to school I notice she's hanging around me more than usual. Like I'm some fragile thing that needs protecting. People stare at the cuts on my face and my wrapped hand as if to say 'what the Hell happened to you?!', but none of them actually say anything to me. Which is fine, I guess. I don't feel like vomiting my problems on random people I barely know.

When English rolls around I'm reminded of a whole new set of problems. Sam got to class before I did and I groan internally at the spot he picked for our seats. Of course it's near the back, one of the desks is sandwiched between the other desk and the wall which is the one he ever so kindly left for me. Can't I just catch a break? Just have a day to breathe for one God damned minute in this town? I cautiously take my seat and try to inch away from him as much as possible, but what does the jack ass do? He scoots closer. And I don't mean closer like a couple inches, I mean like our shoulders are pressed together closer. I can feel my blood starting to boil at the contact and am about to just get up and move when Mr. Dane walks in.

"Alright, I'm not going to waste any time. This is how I want your report set up. First, I want..." Mr. Dane goes on a ramble about the report and I only write down the stuff on the board for the most part.

"You don't have to write anything. I can do that." Sam whispers suggestively in my ear.

His breath tickles the side of my face and I cringe at the feeling.

"Tryin' to act nice ain't gonna get ya' anywhere." I snap, my voice low so no one but him can hear.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. I can be very nice."

That's when I feel it, the ever so slightest pressure and warmth of his hand on my thigh. My eye twitches and it takes a great amount of self control for me to simply shove his hand away.

"Aw, c'mon doll. Don't be like that."

His next move is more brazen as he slips his fingers behind the lining of my jeans and I snap. Leaping out of my chair I see nothing but black space as I pull my arm back and punch him clean across the face. My hit knocks him out of his chair and I can see blood starting to come from his nose. Mr. Dane has stopped talking and the whole class is turned around in their seats, shocked expressions on all of their faces. Whatever quick burst of adrenaline I had is gone as my heart pounds loudly in my ears and I just stare dumbstruck at my hand.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" One of the girl Socs screams from her seat.

When I turn to look at the class, their expressions have changed. Some of them look at me with fear while others look at me with pity. Like I'm some poor crazy girl in an asylum looking out through a small window. My breathing starts to catch in my throat and I run out the classroom in time before I break.