𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃─𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬

fifty eight.

─☼☼☼─

𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙐𝙏 𝙊𝙋𝙀𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙃𝙀𝙍 eyes, Charlotte could tell she was not where she was supposed to be. 

This wasn't her bed that she was tucked into, nor was it Rafe's. 

She couldn't remember falling asleep, hell, she could barely remember the events of the past twenty four hours at first. Everything felt fragmented, as if she was in some kind of dream.

Fearful of what she might see when she did, Charlotte did not want to open her eyes right away. She remained still, her chest tight as she laid in wait, trying to listen to the noises around her. 

After a few painstaking moments, something caught her ear...waves, seagulls...she was by the water. 

The noise was faint, but it was there. 

Slowly, and hesitantly, Charlotte opened her eyes. 

The brightness from the room caused her to wince for a moment, slamming her eyelids shut. A hand flew to her head, feeling the pounding from behind her eyes. 

Right. She thought with an internal groan. I have a fucking concussion. 

Knowing she had no other choice, her eyelids opened once again, the light not feeling as harsh the second time around. 

As they adjusted to the brightness, the room in front of her came into focus. 

It was a small room, full of outdated furniture, ugly carpets and boring paint accompanied by wood panelling. 

If she didn't know about better, she'd say it look like a─the thought plunged into her brain with abrupt panic as she slowly pieced her senses together. 

The waves, the birds, the room...she was on a ship. 

A million thoughts raced through Charlotte's mind as she pulled herself from the small bed she had been placed in. Her head screamed in protest, willing her to lay back down. But there was no way she was doing that. 

Her hand darted to the pocket of her joggers, hoping to find her phone─nothing. 

She scanned the room once again, trying to take in any detail that she could. 

A tray of food had been left on the small wooden table, a bathroom was to her right. A bag of luggage sat at the end of the bed. Tearing it open, she looked at the clothes that sat in it. Some were hers, articles of clothing that she had left at Tannyhill and had never bothered to get back. Some looked like Sarah's, some were Rafe's. 

Bile rose in Charlotte's throat as she slowly came to terms with what had happened.

Kiara...her parents. 

They didn't know where she was, what had happened to her. She needed them to know she didn't abandon them. 

Clambering onto the bed, Charlotte hoisted herself up to look out of the small port window. Maybe they were still docked, maybe she could get out of here. 

You know that moment in a game when you know there's no coming back...that you're destined to lose? That's how Charlotte felt right now, but multiplied by a million.