A Scene from Charlotte's Past

Charlotte held Lilly’s hand tightly in hers as she stood before her mother, towering over the girls.  She could since her mother’s frantic thoughts, unbetrayed by her cold facade. 

         “What were you girls doing out there?”

         The pair remained silent.  Lilly’s gaze continued through the dark floorboards and into the cellar. 

         Charlotte, however, drew up the confidence to stare her mother in the eye, “We were playing in the woods.” 

         Vivian recoiled her nose ever so slightly, looking down at the two girls with judging eyes, “Lilly, go tend to your work—my daughter and I need to speak in private.”  She said all of this while looking pointedly at Charlotte.

         Lilly’s torso turned quickly—the ever-obeying servant.  But her friend stood fast, gripping Lilly’s hand tightly.  Lilly looked to Charlotte, her brown eyes imploring her friend to let their little adventure go.

         “No.”  Charlotte was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling with the cadence of a steam engine.  “Lilly’s my friend, she can hear whatever you have to say.”

         Vivian’s hand came like a snake strike, slapping Charlotte across the face.  The sound echoed in the old house.

         Charlotte slowly turned her head back from the blow.  Not a sound escaped her.  She stood there, feet planted and eyes burning, suddenly caring so much about something that was pointless.  She could feel her face getting hotter.  Her eyes were locked with her mother’s.  A sea of explosions fired from within.

         Vivian’s anger suddenly receded.  “Well, Lilly, why don’t you prepare us a tea before I retire?  Charlotte, attend to your studies, you are much too far behind after this week’s idleness.”  And with that, Vivian walked off, calm enough to kill.

         Charlotte glared at the back of her mother’s head, seething as relieved tears poured down her face.