Chapter 6 · No Longer His Charity

Two days later.

The night breeze carried the salty air from the sea.

By the time I got back downstairs to my shared apartment building in the old neighborhood, night had completely fallen.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a text from Eric.

Eric's message read, [Come apologize when you've thought it through. I won't hold the overboard incident against you.]

I stared at the screen, my eyes dry and aching from the night wind.

Back in middle school, when classmates mocked me for not having a dad, Eric cornered the bullies against the wall and forced them to apologize, with that icy look on his face.

He said, "Charlotte, as long as I'm here, nobody gets to mess with you. "

But today, on the yacht, all the sneers and contempt came straight from him.

I locked my phone and slipped it back into my pocket.

I pushed open the door to my apartment on the fifth floor, it was left ajar.

Mya was sitting on my single bed, holding a pair of tailor's scissors.

The floor was covered in tiny shreds of paper.

All the birthday cards Eric had given me over the past ten years, the movie ticket stubs he gave me, and the quick sketches he used to draw for me.

All of them had been cut into pieces, so shredded you couldn't even tell what they once were.

"Back already? " Mya asked.

She tossed the scissors aside and ground the scraps into the floor with the tip of her shoe.

She lifted her wrist, casually playing with the limited-edition bracelet.

"Eric said it's throwing money at problems to ward off bad luck, he only bought it to please me, " she said, a smirk curling her lips. "Charlotte, what's the point of keeping all this junk? Even your wishful thinking has got to stop somewhere. "

I stared at the mess scattered across the floor, my expression completely blank.

I didn't even try to pick up the scraps, and I kept silent.

Without another glance, I turned and walked out of the room.

*****

At the very end of the hallway sat the security guard's office.

"Uncle Zack, could you pull up the fifth-floor security footage from about ten minutes ago? " I asked.

In the grainy black-and-white footage, everything was laid bare.

Five minutes earlier, Mya had come in with the landlord and forced open my locked door.

Eric was outside the door.

He stood in the hallway with his head lowered, lighting a cigarette.

Through the haze of smoke, he watched as Mya walked in, picked up the scissors, and headed straight for the metal box where I kept all my old memories.

On the screen, his profile was cold and unyielding.

He stood there for a long time, letting the cigarette quietly smolder between his fingers.

Only after Mya finished cutting did he stub out the cigarette hard against the wall, turn away, and walk into the elevator without a second glance.

*****

I thanked Uncle Zack and headed back to my room.

Mya was still sitting on the edge of the bed.

I walked right past her and dragged out the beat-up canvas suitcase from under the bed.

I opened the closet and packed the few clothes I owned.

I pulled out my phone and opened my contacts.

I removed Eric from my favorites, deleted him from my contacts list, and blocked his number.

I didn't bother with the empty metal box, and I didn't take anything that had anything to do with him.

Except for that black card I had to destroy in person.

I closed the suitcase.

I grabbed the broom, swept all the shredded paper into a black trash bag, and hoisted it in my hand.

"Where are you going? " Mya's smile froze, her voice full of surprise.

I didn't even give her so much as a look as I shut the door behind me.

The plastic wheels of my suitcase rumbled over the rough concrete floor.

The garbage area downstairs smelled like something rotten.

Without a second thought, I let go.

I tossed the bag of scraps, ten years of memories, into the green trash can.

After all that, I managed a bitter smile.

Hugging my jacket closer, I headed for the bus stop at the corner.

But after a couple of steps, I stopped in my tracks.

Not far away, a familiar black car sat quietly in the shadows, out of reach of the streetlights.

Chapter 6

Two days later.

The night breeze carried the salty air from the sea.

By the time I got back downstairs to my shared apartment building in the old neighborhood, night had completely fallen.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a text from Eric.

Eric's message read, [Come apologize when you've thought it through. I won't hold the overboard incident against you.]

I stared at the screen, my eyes dry and aching from the night wind.

Back in middle school, when classmates mocked me for not having a dad, Eric cornered the bullies against the wall and forced them to apologize, with that icy look on his face.

He said, "Charlotte, as long as I'm here, nobody gets to mess with you. "

But today, on the yacht, all the sneers and contempt came straight from him.

I locked my phone and slipped it back into my pocket.

I pushed open the door to my apartment on the fifth floor, it was left ajar.

Mya was sitting on my single bed, holding a pair of tailor's scissors.

The floor was covered in tiny shreds of paper.

All the birthday cards Eric had given me over the past ten years, the movie ticket stubs he gave me, and the quick sketches he used to draw for me.

All of them had been cut into pieces, so shredded you couldn't even tell what they once were.

"Back already? " Mya asked.

She tossed the scissors aside and ground the scraps into the floor with the tip of her shoe.

She lifted her wrist, casually playing with the limited-edition bracelet.

I stared at the mess scattered across the floor, my expression completely blank.

I didn't even try to pick up the scraps, and I kept silent.

Without another glance, I turned and walked out of the room.

*****

At the very end of the hallway sat the security guard's office.

"Uncle Zack, could you pull up the fifth-floor security footage from about ten minutes ago? " I asked.

In the grainy black-and-white footage, everything was laid bare.

Five minutes earlier, Mya had come in with the landlord and forced open my locked door.

Eric was outside the door.

He stood in the hallway with his head lowered, lighting a cigarette.

Through the haze of smoke, he watched as Mya walked in, picked up the scissors, and headed straight for the metal box where I kept all my old memories.

On the screen, his profile was cold and unyielding.

He stood there for a long time, letting the cigarette quietly smolder between his fingers.

Only after Mya finished cutting did he stub out the cigarette hard against the wall, turn away, and walk into the elevator without a second glance.

*****

I thanked Uncle Zack and headed back to my room.

Mya was still sitting on the edge of the bed.

I walked right past her and dragged out the beat-up canvas suitcase from under the bed.

I opened the closet and packed the few clothes I owned.

I pulled out my phone and opened my contacts.

I removed Eric from my favorites, deleted him from my contacts list, and blocked his number.

I didn't bother with the empty metal box, and I didn't take anything that had anything to do with him.

Except for that black card I had to destroy in person.

I closed the suitcase.

I grabbed the broom, swept all the shredded paper into a black trash bag, and hoisted it in my hand.

"Where are you going? " Mya's smile froze, her voice full of surprise.

I didn't even give her so much as a look as I shut the door behind me.

The plastic wheels of my suitcase rumbled over the rough concrete floor.

The garbage area downstairs smelled like something rotten.

Without a second thought, I let go.

I tossed the bag of scraps, ten years of memories, into the green trash can.

After all that, I managed a bitter smile.

Hugging my jacket closer, I headed for the bus stop at the corner.

But after a couple of steps, I stopped in my tracks.

Not far away, a familiar black car sat quietly in the shadows, out of reach of the streetlights.