“It’s Charlotte.”
Fuck. No. Tell me she’s okay. Tell me there’s nothing wrong with her. Tell me she’s healthy. Tell me that she’s fine.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered, frightened.
“She’s... uhm...” Donovan choked up, and I could hear him attempting to clear his hoarse throat. But he wasn’t talking quick enough. And when it came to Charlotte, I wasn’t about to be rational.
“What the fuck is wrong?! Is she okay?!”
“Blaine...”
“Donovan, fuck, just tell me!”
A moment of silence. A moment of dread.
Kurt squeezed my hand.
“She’s missing. She’s been taken.”
Suddenly, I was sinking into this black hole where nothing could ever be okay again, ever. I dropped my phone – I’d found myself too weak to even hold it to my ear. I crumbled, slumped down and found myself breathing heavily, seated on the icy, wet cobblestone path. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak.
Charlotte was gone.
She’d been taken.
Why? How? And who the fuck took her away from us?
Xxxxxx
Somehow I’d wound up back in my dorm, sitting cross-legged on my bed with a pillow on my lap, staring intently at my phone im my hands, hoping, wishing and praying to every higher being in every possible religion that this was a joke. Or that I’d get a call saying Charlotte’s okay and that she’s back home and everything’s fine.
But my fucking phone wouldn’t ring.
I’m not a vindictive person. I’m not violent, I’m not hateful or spiteful, and I’ve never wished anyone harm or death before in my life. But the person who took my Charlotte, my honeybee? If I ever got my hands on that person, who knows what I’d be capable of?
Kurt was pacing the room. He’d been trying to find words to comfort me, and as much as I loved him, I had this overwhelming urge to tell him to shut up and go away, because I wasn’t the one needing comfort. Wherever Charlotte was, she was sure to be out of her mind with worry, confusion and fear. The only thing I wanted to do in this world – even if it meant giving up absolutely everything in my life just to have it – was to have my honeybee run up to me so I could hug her close and tell her that everything was okay, that no one could ever hurt her.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t help. I wasn’t even there when it happened. I didn’t even know what had happened. Donovan had barely been able to choke out the main information before Kurt had to take over, but Kurt had said that he hadn’t received any more information than I had.
They say you’re never supposed to blame yourselves in that kind of situation. But the only thoughts running through my mind were Why wasn’t I there to protect her? and Why couldn’t I prevent this from happening? and Why the fuck am I sitting here at Dalton while my little sister is MISSING?
My phone started ringing. Kurt and I looked at each other immediately before I answered, fingers trembling.
“Mom?” I answered immediately, seeing Mom’s name on the caller ID.
“Blaine,” Mom choked out, it was obvious that she had been sobbing desperately for quite some time.
“Mom?” I said again, with pleading and desperation evident in my voice.
“Please come home. We need you. Please.”
Mom sounded so broken beyond measure, so small and so different. I’d been crying for a long time, but the tears had dried up. I had a million words to say but not enough vocal strength to actually speak.
“I’m coming.”
That’s all I needed to say and that’s all I needed to do. Fuck school and their policies. Fuck education, fuck my future – I didn’t want to live a life without Charlotte in it. And fuck it, I needed Kurt there with me or else I wouldn’t cope at all.
“Okay,” Mom said softly, sounding slightly relieved but still sniffing and sobbing quietly through the phone.
“I’m bringing Kurt,” I said. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.
“Okay,” Mom said again before she hung up abruptly. I figured she was going to lose it. She sounded so broken and so lost, I don’t think she cared about anything other than having her family back together.
I hung up the phone and sat there for a minute as Kurt came over to me, wiped the tears from my cheeks, kissed my forehead and pulled me close to him. He forced me into a hug, and I resisted at first, not wanting to admit that I needed support but fuck it, I did, and as I felt Kurt’s heart pound away frighteningly fast I felt as though he was just as worried and upset as I was. I felt myself melt into him, grasping onto him tightly and pulling him as close as I could. I let myself go. I was sobbing and screaming as the tears wouldn’t stop falling. All I felt were pain, guilt and shame and I felt like my whole world was crumbling. I found myself remembering all the times Charlotte and I would cover Disney songs together and put on shows while I babysat. I found myself remembering that one day that she decided to make me some brownies as a surprise but put three times the proper amount of cocoa into the mix. I found myself remembering the first time she walked over to me as a toddler and the first time she said my name. I found myself remembering her preschool musical, where she sang and tap-danced as a bumblebee, thus earning her nickname – she was my honeybee.
And she was gone.
We didn’t know where she was.
We didn’t know how she was.
Hell, we didn’t even know if she was still alive.
And even with Kurt’s arms around me, holding me close, and even with him whispering, “It’s okay, baby,” in my ear and kissing my forehead, a big part of me was missing. I was sinking, I was falling. I needed my honeybee.