I am your mother. You will do as I say
Charlotte’s pov
I rested my head against the passenger window of Luther’s car, my eyes shut as a throbbing pain settled deeper in my skull. My voice was nearly gone, my throat felt sore, and everything in my body just felt drained. Last night’s drinks had caught up with me, and now I had to tag along with Luther to pick up Mum and Luther from the airport.
“You have been quiet the whole way, sweetheart. Are you alright?” Mum’s voice came from the back seat. She and Luther had chosen to sit together in the rear, their fingers intertwined and their faces glowing with joy.
“Just a headache,” I replied, which was only partly true. She did not need to know I had been out drinking. If she found out, I would never hear the end of it. It was one of her rules, no alcohol, especially if I was going out late.
“Did you take anything for it?” she asked, her voice cutting through my thoughts like a sharp knife. Every word made the pain in my head worse. I loved that she was back, but I could not stop thinking about her lies, and how she had dragged Luther’s name into them.
“Mum,” I said, a little sharper than intended.
“I will be fine. I just need some water.”
It was easier to say that than explain how I truly felt. I could not stop thinking about the man from last night, the way he had warned me that I had no idea what was out there. His words kept playing in my head no matter how much I tried to forget them. And Luther, he still would not tell me what Loveth had said when they spoke alone. I might have been tipsy, but I was not blind. When Kate and I returned, Loveth refused to look me in the eyes.
“How was your honeymoon?” Luther asked suddenly, giving me a quick look before turning his attention to the rear-view mirror. His voice lightened the mood in the car.
“Absolutely amazing, mate! There are not even words to explain it,” Luther said with a wide grin. It was obvious they had enjoyed themselves.
I slid in my earbuds to block out the conversation. My mood had dipped again. Maybe it was because Mum was back and I could no longer stay at Luther’s house. Or maybe it was because of Luther’s secrets. Or that strange man. My thoughts were all over the place, and I could not find a single one to hold on to. I told myself I would sort it out on Saturday. But I did not even know where to begin.
I did not realise how lost I had been in my own head until Luther gently shook my shoulder.
“We are here,” he said.
I opened my eyes and saw we had reached our house. But something was off. A moving truck was parked outside, and several men were carrying boxes out of the house.
“What is going on?” I asked, immediately opening the car door.
I stepped out and turned towards Mum just as she followed.
“What is this, Mum? I told you I did not want to move!”
My tone rose as I stared at her, anger bubbling beneath my skin.
“Watch your mouth,” she said sharply. “And I told you already, I am your mother. You will do as I say.”
Her eyes widened as she raised her voice, clearly not willing to back down.
I took a step closer to her, standing directly in front of her, meeting her eyes without looking away.
"I respect Luther," I said, keeping my voice low but firm, "but I am not leaving my father's house."
I spoke slowly, forcing each word through clenched teeth.
"Then you can enjoy sleeping on the streets," she shot back without hesitation. "Either you move in with us, or you find somewhere else to stay. I am renting this house, and that is final."
I said nothing. My legs moved before I could think, carrying me into the house, straight to the place where my father had taken his last breath.
The house felt like him. It held pieces of who he was, the laughter we had shared, and all the quiet moments that had made up my childhood. And now, my mother was ready to erase that like it meant nothing. I leaned against the kitchen counter and looked around. The living room was almost empty, and the last of the boxes were being carried out by the movers.
That was it. Everything I had grown up with, gone in a matter of minutes.
"I cannot do this," I whispered, sliding down until I was sitting on the cold floor. My eyes stung, and I blinked quickly to stop the tears. Just like that, my mother was throwing away my father's memory, after promising she would never let it fade.
The familiar scent of Luther’s cologne reached me just before he knelt down beside me. Dirt smudged his trousers, but he clearly did not care. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close without saying a word. That quiet gesture meant more than anything. He knew I did not need speeches, I just needed him there.
"What is wrong with you, Sophie?" Luther’s voice cut through the air as he stormed into the house behind my mother. His face was tight with anger. "How can you force Charlotte out of the only home she has ever known, as if it is the easiest decision in the world?"
"Are you serious right now?" she replied, clearly taken aback. "I am doing this for her!" She stopped, then jabbed her finger in my direction. I let out a bitter laugh.
"She is clearly not fine with it," Luther said, turning back to her. "Charlotte is nearly twenty-one. Why not let her make her own choices?"
I had never felt grateful for Luther until that moment. I had been cold and distant with him for so long, but here he was, standing up for me, trying to make my mother see things from my side.
"When did you even call the moving company?" I asked.
She looked away, and that was all the answer I needed. She had planned all of this without even telling Luther.
"For goodness’ sake, Sophie," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You were arranging this while I was telling you I was ready to stay here for a while. I said we could wait until Charlotte got her ID, and then we would move into my place, not before."
I blinked, hardly able to process what I was hearing. Luther had been willing to hold off on their plans, just so I could stay in my childhood home a little longer?
"I am sorry I did not tell you," my mother mumbled, clearly rattled now that Luther was no longer on her side. "I just wanted to get it over with."
But that was not all. It was the way she brushed aside how I felt, like it was an inconvenience. That hurt more than anything.
"Why the rush, darling?" Luther’s voice was calm, but laced with hurt. "I told you, as long as we’re together and Charlotte is happy, that’s all I need. What good does it do you to force her into a life she doesn’t want, just so you can carry on like nothing’s changed?"
As Luther spoke, Luther gently rubbed the side of my arm. His touch was comforting, soft, but it couldn’t quiet the ache spreading through my chest.
"You don’t care about me at all," I said quietly, my voice cracking as I sniffed.
Both of them turned to face me. Luther nudged my thigh gently, as if to say not now, but I was done staying silent.
"I should have realised it sooner," I said, trying to hold myself together. "Everything has always been about your happiness."
My mother opened her mouth, but I spoke over her.
"I remember it like it was yesterday... the day Dad was shot."
"Stop it, Charlotte. Don’t bring him into this," she snapped, already growing defensive.
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. "You sent me away with Loveth. You didn’t even let me grieve him properly. You were in such a hurry to forget he ever existed."
Tears streamed down my cheeks. I wiped them roughly with the back of my hand.
"Have you forgotten I was shot too?" she hissed, her tone full of indignation.
"Before you were shot, you had already told him to take me away!" I shouted, chest rising with each shaky breath.
"I didn’t want you there, Charlotte. Your father had just been murdered," her voice broke for a moment, then hardened again. "It was a crime scene. We needed to find out who did it."
I stared at her, my mouth curling in disbelief. "And I was just... what? By the way? My crying made it hard for you and the lawyer to think straight, is that it?"
"Charlotte, please," Luther said gently, stepping closer, his eyes full of concern.
But I couldn’t stop. I had carried this pain for too long.
"I can’t, Luther. I can’t stay quiet anymore. I’m finally seeing her for who she is. She doesn’t care about me, only about what makes her life easier."
Luther stood silently at my side, rubbing my back. I was shaking now.
"Wait, hold on," Luther said suddenly, narrowing his eyes as he looked at me. "Did you say the family lawyer?"
"Yes," I replied, still catching my breath. "The first people who arrived after my dad was shot were Mr Stafford, the family lawyer, and Dr Reid, our doctor."
A flicker of surprise crossed Luther’s face, but he quickly masked it.
"I thought the police and medics were first on the scene," he said, now looking at my mother. She didn’t reply, just stared at me like I had crossed some invisible line.
"I was the one who called 999," I whispered, the weight of the memory crashing down on me. "After she was shot... I was the one who called for help."
The pain of that night returned with full force. My knees trembled, and I felt the blood drain from my face. My mind clouded with images, Dad lying still on the floor, the pool of blood, the scream that tore from my throat.
My vision blurred. The room tilted sideways. My legs buckled.
Bile rose in my throat just as the image of my father’s lifeless body filled my head.
"Charlotte!" I heard Luther’s voice calling to me, but it sounded so far away.
Then everything went dark as my legs gave out beneath me.
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