Chapter 15: For the Best

Charlie expected the next day to be good.

She expected to wake up with Beatrice still in her arms, breathing softly against her chest. She expected to run her fingers softly through her pale blonde hair she quietly tell her good morning.

Instead, she woke up to chaos.

Screaming, pounding, and a thick cloud of smoke. At first she thought it was another nightmare, as it all seemed nauseatingly familiar. The only thing that set it apart from her memories was the sound of Beatrice's voice, pinched and desperate.

"They've found us! Charlie! Wake up!"

Charlie startled awake, confused. It was still nighttime, but it was even harder to see than it should have been. Something smelled like gunpowder.

"What's going on?" Charlie asked, stumbling upright, arms outstretched and searching for Beatrice.

"They threw a smoke bomb under the door, I think." Beatrice said. "I was going to turn on the light but I'm having to keep them away at the door."

Charlie could hear the shouts from the other side of the door. She could hear something thudding against Beatrice's invisible shield. It was the hotel room all over again.

"I'll get the lights." Charlie said.

She felt around the wall beside her bed, clumsily knocking things over, until she reached the switch. She flipped it up, but nothing happened. Desperately, she began to flip it up and down, when a sudden thought struck her.

"Shit! Beatrice, the generator's turned off!" She yelled.

"Oh yeah." Beatrice shouted back. "I forgot. Sorry, I'm kind of panicking right now!"

Charlie blindly stumbled over to the area across from her bed, feeling the wall. There was a floor to ceiling window there, facing the backyard garden. Charlie figured if she could break it somehow, they could pull off the same escape they made back at the hotel.

"I'm going to try and—"

Charlie was cut off mid sentence as the glass shattered beneath her hand. She could feel the tiny shards raining down on her. Her arm stung, but before she could register that, someone slammed against her, pinning her to the ground. She yelled out in a mixture of surprise and pain.

"Charlie!" She heard Beatrice yell.

Beatrice must have faltered when she heard Charlie, as immediately afterward, the sound of splintering wood and the thudding of boots filled the room.

"Get down! Stand down!" The chorus of gruff voices shouted.

Charlie struggled beneath the person on top of her, but every twist only dug shards of glass deeper into her arm.

"Stop resisting!" The muffled voice above her ordered.

She could hear Beatrice beside her, scuffling with several people from the sound of it.

"Stop it! Don't touch me! Get your hands off me!"

"Beatrice!" Charlie yelled, though she knew it was hopeless.

It was over. They had been beat. There was nothing they could do at this point.

"Let me go!" Charlie yelled, squirming even more, trying to shimmy her arms free despite the hopelesness of their situation. "Beatrice!"

She could hear more grunting and gasping, punches colliding, but she had no idea what was happening, and that made her panic all the more. Her arms collided with the hard helmet of the person who held her down, and that seemed to be the last straw for them.

There was a sudden sting in her neck. After an initial moment of panic and confusion, her arms grew heavy and her vision blurry.

She tried one more time to move but it was useless.

The darkness took over her.

When Charlie came to, everything was white. The walls were white. The bedsheets were white. Even the couch beside her was an unsoiled, blinding white.

A jolt of panic shot through her, and she sat upright.

"where's Beatrice?" She asked whoever might be around.

"Charlie!"

Charlie blinked. There was someone else in the room, but it wasn't Beatrice.

A messy bun, thick glasses, and an oversized sweatshirt.

"Harleigh?" She said, squinting up at her bespectacled friend. "Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital. Your arm was cut up real bad by some glass." Harleigh said.

Charlie blinked down. Her right arm was tightly bandaged with thick gauze and throbbing with dull pain, but somehow her left arm concerned her more. It was handcuffed to the bed.

"Why am I handcuffed?" Charlie asked.

Oh shit!  Am I going to be arrested?

Harleigh suddenly seemed very nervous as she pushed her glasses back to the bridge of her nose.

"They were afraid you'd try and... run away... when you woke up." She said carefully.

Charlie pulled on the cuffs with annoyance, jingling it obnoxiously against the bedframe.

I guess they weren't wrong.

"Where's Beatrice?" Charlie asked again.

Harleigh frowned. "Who?"

"B—" oh yeah. She probably doesn't know her real name. "I mean Shadow Witch." Charlie said.

"She's been in custody for almost seven hours, so my guess would be the Super Jail downtown."

Charlie sat further upright. Desperately jiggling her cuffed arm.

"What?! No! Harleigh, let me out! I've got to tell them—"

Harleigh cut her off by clamping a hand on her mouth.

"Shhh!!" Harleigh harshly whispered. "Listen, Charlie. As your friend, I'm telling you that you need to cut this 'Bonnie and Clyde' shit out!"

Charlie shouted muffled words into her palm.

"I don't want to hear it!" Harleigh said. "Your Dad is this close—" she held her pointer finger and her thumb millimeters part, "to involuntary committing you! I'm trying to save your ass!"

More garbled complaints from Charlie.

"That's why I called the police on you after I traced your location from the phone call."

This time, Charlie forcibly tore away from her.

"You What?!" She shrieked, "Harleigh, you're my best friend! How could you?!"

Harleigh gave her a look of utter confusion.

"You were kidnapped! By an evil villain!" She said it as if it should be obvious.

"It's not like that! I know it sounds crazy, but there's more to the story!" Charlie said. "You should have trusted me!"

Harleigh pulled away.

"Maybe your dad is right. Maybe you do need professional help." She said quietly.

"Harleigh what the fuck!" Charlie said, her eyes beginning to sting. "You're supposed to be my best friend."

"I am, Charlie." She said. "That's why I'm doing this for you. I love you, Charlie. You're the closest friend I've ever had but you can be so... naive sometimes!

You've never had to deal with anything bad, because your dad's money can make it all go away for you. You're ignorant to how the world works."

"Maybe you're not such a great friend after all."

Charlie bit her lip in an effort to stop her tears, and fell back on the bed. She pulled the covers back up, and turned to face the wall instead of Harleigh.

It was deathly silent, and Charlie wished in her head for Harleigh to just leave.

"...I'll go get your dad." Harleigh said after a moment. "He's been really worried about you."

Harleigh's footsteps faded away, and the door slid closed.

Once she was gone Charlie let herself cry.

She couldn't believe what she'd done. Beatrice had been right. By making that phone call, Charlie had lead the authorities right to them. It was all her fault.

And Beatrice was going to be the one to suffer for her negligence. She would spend her life in prison, there was no doubt about that. Charlie would be the hero. It would only be a matter of time before the media was begging her for a statement recounting the harrowing story of kidnapping.

Beatrice must hate her.

It made her feel sick.

The door slid open again. Charlie rubbed her white hospital shirt across her face in an effort to pull herself together and rolled over.

Her father stood near the door. Although he seemed very composed at the moment, it was obvious from the redness in his face that he had been crying.

"Hi dad." She said raggedly.

Wordlessly, he walked over to her, and gathered her in his arms. He squeezed her tight, tighter than he probably ever had before.

"Uh. Ow. You're squeezing

my arm dad." She said.

"Sorry." He said, pulling away and looking over her face. "I was just so worried I'd lost you."

"I'm okay." Charlie said, leaning in and hugging him again. "I'm here and I'm okay."

"All—all I could think about was–was—"

"Was picking me up from the hospital after the bombing, and having to tell me that mom didn't make it?"

He didn't answer, and he didn't need to. Charlie already knew how badly she'd hurt him by choosing not come home. She could only imagine the pain she'd put him through.

"Im sorry, dad." She said. "I didn't mean t—"

"Charlie no." He shook his head. "If it was something I did that made you not want to come back, if I wasn't supportive enough, or—"

"Dad, no. It's nothing like that. I swear." She said.

He cleared his throat and nodded, putting back on his professional, neutral expression.

"Right, well— the authorities were asking to interview you as soon as you woke up, but I did manage to convince them that you would probably need some time to stabilize, you know, emotionally and all."

Charlie somehow managed a pained smile.

"Thanks dad. I really could use some time to—" She paused to swallow. "Calm down."

"I'm just glad you're safe now." He said.

Charlie tried to manage a smile, but she knew it must look wrong. She didn't feel safe at all. She felt like a traitor. Like she had spent weeks earning Beatrice's trust, only to throw it all away when she was just starting to open up.

Still, she knew how delicate the situation was at the moment. She knew she couldn't say anything like that to her father.

"Thanks dad." She said instead. "Me too."