Chapter 15 ✧Pretty Little Liar✧ 

Scott paced back and forth through my room for what had to be the hundredth time. He and some of the others had decided to pay Eichen House a visit after they recognized a name in the book Malia found as one of its residents. I was not a part of this visit, which I was completely okay with. 

"Are you sure you're okay with me leaving?" Scott asked once again, shooting me a concerned look. 

I tried to smile at him, but anymore the task of smiling had before increasingly harder. "I'm positive. I'm only going to be home alone for a couple of hours before your mom gets off her shift. This gives me well needed alone time to write my essay for English." 

Scott didn't seem to be convinced yet. "Still... with everything that's going on with the dread doctors and all, maybe you could invite Liam or Mason to come over for a while." 

"Fine, I can do that," I nodded, knowing that would be the easiest way to stop Scott's worries. 

"Alright, thank you." Scott rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I know I worry about you a lot, and I'm sorry about that. You're not just a girl who a friend of mine asked me to watch over anymore, Charlotte. You're my little sister and I love you." 

This time I didn't have to try to force a smile. "I know, Scott. But you still don't have to worry about me so much."

"Yes, I do," Scott stated. "I'm supposed to take care of you, you know? I mean you're a human in a supernatural world. That means that it's extra dangerous for you, and I have to make sure you don't get hurt." 

And just like that my smile began to fade. Human, was that really a word that could be used to describe me anymore? And what I felt was just as concerning, was that the reason why everyone tried so hard to keep me with them? Because they thought that I was a fragile little girl that might break when she was off on her own? 

I already knew the answer to the latter question, I just didn't really want to accept it. I knew who I was, and what people thought of me. I guess I couldn't blame them, but that didn't mean I had to like it either. It sucks how much a person's past can define them, not because you want it to, but just because everyone else seems to know about it. 

Scott's phone buzzed in his hand, and he looked down to read the message. With a sigh he started heading towards the door. 

"I have to go," He explained. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay?" 

I nodded slowly, lifting my hand up to give Scott a half-hearted wave before watching him walk out the door. Trying not to feel too let down, I pushed away all the thoughts that were flowing through my mind. That wasn't quite working so instead I began playing some music, hoping maybe a melody could drown out my worries. 

In no time at all I had papers scattered across my bed, Scott's laptop on top of them all as I wrote my essay. As interesting as writing about the significance of symbolism in The Scarlet Letter was, I could hardly get through the introduction paragraph before wanting to give up. Even though I had taken more then enough notes throughout reading the book, my heart just didn't feel like it was in it. 

Maybe I was just looking for a reason to take a break from my work (if you could even call it that) but something made me feel like I should turn down my music. When I did, I felt like I heard something, some kind of rustling, coming from outside of my closed door. I frowned to myself. 

"Scott?" I called. No answer, so I tried again. "Melissa, is that you?" 

Still no response, but I swore I could still hear a faint crackling of some kind on the other side of the door. I knew it wasn't something that I should feel so calmly about, but for some reason I wasn't quite scared but more so confused.

Slowly, I slipped off of my bed and began walking towards the door. The sound only got louder, as I stood just in front of my door. I hesitated for a moment, trying to decide what I was expecting to happen. What was I going to do if there was something, or someone, on the other side of the door. 

I guess there was only one way to find out. 

Reaching out and twisting the door handle, I quickly pulled the door open and gasped. The entire hallway was engulfed in a fire. I took a step back, realizing this left me trapped in my room, before I felt a heat coming from behind me too. 

Holding back a scream, I realized my entire room was ablaze, too. Nearly hyperventilating, I tried to figure out what was going on. How had everything caught on fire so quickly? What was happening to me?

After spinning around, trying to find somewhere to go so I wouldn't burn alive, which I very quickly decided was not the way I wanted to go, I realized that my entire room actually wasn't on fire. There was a small path through the fire leading to my desk. The fire around the desk was  a haunting bright blue, unlike the rest of the flames. Some how, I knew exactly what this meant.

I felt inclined to hod my breath as I made my way towards the desk. While the flames lapped viciously around me, none of them disturbed the small pathway. That didn't mean I want to test them though, and I maneuvered to my desk carefully. I somehow wasn't getting burned even though a fire had completely engulfed my bedroom, and even the entire house for all I knew, and I couldn't decide if that was relieving or terrifying. 

Eventually, I reached my desk. With a shaky hand, I opened the drawer. When I did, the flames disappeared all at once, leaving me untouched as I looked down at the folded up piece of paper. I reached down and picked it up, looking at it for the millionth time since it had blown into the bathroom at the hospital. I'd studied it so much since it had found it's way to me that I could probably draw an exact replica of the grave-marker without even having to glance at it a single time.

 But all of that didn't matter. What mattered now was the fact that it was crystal clear what I was supposed to do with it. 

My phone rang, causing me to jump. I looked over to my bed, seeing it perfectly in tact. You never would've guessed it had been on fire just moments ago. 

I refolded the paper in my hands, before going to grab my cell phone off my bed. A picture of Liam in Stiles' jeep was lighting up my screen, telling me he was the one calling me. Taking in a  deep breath, I answered the call. 

"Hey," I answered. 

"Hi," Liam laughed to himself. "I know Scott and the other's are at Eichen House, so what does that mean you're doing?" 

"Um." I carefully looked around the room which had almost been swallowed by flames just moments before. "Homework, mostly." 

"You doing that essay for English?" Liam questioned. "I still need to do that. I totally don't understand symbolism. You think I could come over and we could work on it together? I'll bring ice cream." 

"No!" Suddenly my heart was racing nervously. I took a deep breathe. "I-I mean I don't think that's a good idea. I really need to get this done, plus I have tons of other homework." 

"Oh. Right." Liam sounded disappointed. I felt awful for making him sound like that. "No, yeah I totally get it. Can we study or something tomorrow? I just feel like I haven't seen much of you lately." 

"I'll see if I can," I assured Liam. My eyes flitted back down to the piece of paper. "I should get going." 

"Okay. Goodnight Charlotte," Liam murmured softly. Then there was a click. 

I pulled my phone away from my ear and felt my stomach drop. Liam was right, we hadn't been hanging out as much as we used to. But there was something really important I had to do, and I felt like I had to it alone for once. 

There were a handful of places that I had been hopeful to never have to see again after my father died. One of those places had been the Beacon Hills cemetery as the darkness of the night began settling in. Unfortunately, my wish hadn't come true because now I stood at the cemetery's entrance just like I had far to many times before. 

Whenever I had come here when my dad made me work, Isaac would come with me so I wouldn't get too scared. Of course that had been back when I was in a constant state of fear, so It hadn't really made to much of a difference. Still, I would've loved to have Isaac with me now. 

The cemetery was exactly how I had remembered it. Creepy, sad, and dark. The idea of hundreds of rotting corpses below my feet never ceased to make me feel uneasy. Even though I liked to think that I was more in control of my fears then I had been two years ago, I suddenly felt like the scared little girl I had grown up being. Nevertheless, I forced myself to keep walking through the old graveyard. 

At first, I didn't know what I was looking for. A single gravestone among hundreds? Forget about a needle in a haystack, I was looking for a needle in a stack of freaking needles. And why had I been so sure that this particular gravestone would be in this cemetery? That was just wishful thinking at it's finest. 

With a defeated sigh, I pulled the drawing out of my jacket's pocket. Trying to ignore the words that were in my own handwriting, I tried to focus on the grave itself. There had to be something about it that would help it stand out other then the abundance of ivy growing all over it. 

But, just like before, there were no words of any kind on it. It was completely blank, which was beyond unhelpful. I sighed, almost folding up the paper before something caught my eye. At the bottom of the tombstone wasn't just a straight line, but instead something more jagged and twisty. It was like something was wrong with the ground in front of it. Or maybe there was something there. Something that could definitely be the root of a tree. 

My heart started to beat faster. There were only a handful of tree's actually inside of the graveyard. If this tombstone was near one, then that definitely narrow down where I had to look. 

Excitedly, or maybe anxiously, I scanned the graveyard. The sun was almost completely gone over the treeline surrounding the graveyard, so I hurried to find the one tree inside of the cemetery that might actually be the one I'm looking for. This tree might hold the key to finding out what was wrong with me. And, even better, how to fix me. Because there had to be a way to fix me. There had to be a way to keep me from going crazy. 

There were at least a dozen trees that I saw as I walked, but known of them seemed right. Then, finally, my eyes landed on an old giant oak tree in the far corner of the cemetery. I'd seen it a hundred times before, but something felt different when I looked at it this time. The next thing I knew I was walking towards the tree like my life depended on it, which for all I knew it did. 

It didn't take long for me to get to the tree, and I instantly saw what I was looking for. Just like I had predicted, there was a tombstone under the tree. Their were roots on either side of it, almost like the tree was wrapping itself around the tombstone almost protectively. The moss and the ivy crept along every part of the tomb stone and at first glance, I really did think it was unmarked. And then I realized there were markings etched just beyond all the greenery growing on it. 

I knelt down carefully in front of the old grey stone. This grave had to have been one of the oldest one's in the entire cemetery. And here I was knelt down in front of it hoping this tombstone would hold the key to all of the answers I needed. Maybe it was too late and I already had lost my marbles. 

Nevertheless, I rose my hand and wiped and pushed and pulled away everything that was on the tombstone until I read what it said. 

Genevieve Carodine 

May 9, 1835 -  July 14, 1868

That was it. Just a name, a birth date and a death date were all the tombstone had to offer me. Sure, the birth date was significant, but still I had no idea what good any of this did for me. 

"You're kidding me," I exhaled wearily, falling back into a sitting position. I felt exhaustion wash over me. I looked around at the cemetery surrounding me and whimpered in defeat. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was cry. "What am I doing here?" 

Just as I was about to let out a sob I really was trying to hold back, the ground began shaking under me. I looked down and realized I felt it sinking in below me. I quickly jumped to my feet and moved a few feet back, hoping that was a safe distance. Between me and the grave, the ground began caving in on it's self. I washed in a fearful shock as the dirt cleared away and formed a perfect rectangular hole. 

I had a feeling I knew exactly what was inside the hole, but I still leaned forward to look anyways. Just at the bottom of the roughly six foot crevice was an old wooden casket that sent chills down my spine. Sitting on top of it, on the end closer to the tombstone, was an even smaller wooden box with golden details spiraling over it. 

In all honesty, I don't know what possessed me and made me think getting in the grave was a good idea. Long ago whilst digging graves with Isaac I had decided the idea of being buried alive terrified me, and yet here I was on top of a casket, walking on creaking wood over to retrieve a small wood-and-gold case. There was no doubt in my mind that I would have a heart attack if the wooden slab I was walking on were to give in. Genevieve Carodine might have been a perfectly lovely lady, but I really didn't want to see what she looked like now. 

After I had the box in my hand, I wanted more then anything to get out. The creaking of the wood under my weight only seemed to be getting louder. So, hastily, I threw the small box over the top of the grave, and then worried about how I was going to get out. I tried grabbing at the roots I saw in the dirt, but they were too high up and I didn't have the upper body strength to hoist myself up. 

I was stuck inside of a grave that I had willingly gotten inside of. Every decision I've made in the past two hours seems to be worse and worse. 

"Need a hand?" 

That it was, the heart attack I was bound to have. I was sure of it because I felt like my heart had jumped out of my chest and was high-tailing it out of cemetery when it heard a voice coming from above. I only wish I could've done the same. 

Instead, I was left with having to shakily look up at who was speaking to me and try my best not to scream. I was certain that was going to be hard, but I still looked up and saw her. It was Allison. Allison Argent was standing there above the grave I was stuck in. I realized that everything that was happening to me was too crazy, even for Beacon Hills. 

"This is a dream." I stumbled back but fell onto a dirt wall. Somehow, I managed to keep my balance. "I'm either dreaming or going crazy. Oh god, please let me wake up." 

Once again I realized I was on the verge of tears. What had I been thinking coming out here all by myself? I wasn't Scott or Lydia or even Liam. I couldn't handle any of this. I was Charlotte Lahey and I should not be in the middle of a cemetery alone. I shouldn't do anything alone. I'm going crazy because I wanted to be like the rest of them and now I was seeing dead friends. 

"What's happening to me?" I whimpered. Tears fell. I couldn't stop them. I couldn't do anything. 

Allison, or more likely my hallucination of Allison, knelt down to get closer to me. "This is not a dream, Charlotte. And you're not losing your mind either." 

"Y-yes, I am!" I wailed. "How could any of this be happening." 

Allison just smiled softly before reaching out her hand. I knew she wanted to help me out of the grave, but I also knew there was no explanation outside of the world of Supernatural for a dead person to be able to help someone out of anywhere. 

But then again, I was stuck in a grave. I had to at least  try to get out. So, wiping away my tears, I stepped forward and grabbed Allison's hand. I was expecting it to be cold, but it wasn't. It was burning up, almost too hot to touch. But once I locked hands, I couldn't let go, and next thing I knew Allison was hoisting me up. 

The first chance I got, I let go of her hand and used my own two hands to claw at the grass and pull myself back onto it. Feeling dizzy, I slowly stood up. When I turned to look back at her, Allison was staring at me patiently. 

"How could I feel you?" I could only make myself whisper, but she seemed to hear me. "How can you feel real? You're dead." 

"It's not easy for me to be here, but when I'm this close to my body, I can pull tricks like this and see my children," Allison explained as if it was the most basic thing ever. 

"Your children? That doesn't make any-" 

I stopped myself hastily. With wide eyes, I looked from Allison, to the grave I'd just gotten out of, to back to Allison. A grin slowly spread across her lips as if she knew I was putting the pieces back together. 

"You're not really Allison Argent, are you?" I questioned. I couldn't help but take a step back. 

"I'm not," she confirmed. "I'm Genevieve Carodine, the woman who's grave you just dug up." 

"What? No! I-I-" 

"Charlotte, relax, my dear," Allison, or Genevieve, or whatever was in front of me, sounded oddly reassuring. "It happens every time." 

"What happens?" I didn't mean to speak so loudly, but I couldn't hold it back anymore. "What is happening to me?" 

"You've finally triggered what's inside of you and you're changing," Genevieve explained. She bent down and picked up the box I'd gotten from the grave. Carefully, she wiped the dirt off of it. "But this is only the beginning for you. For the rest, you're going to need this." 

Genevieve moved towards me slowly, as if she didn't want to frighten me. When she was in front of me, she opened the box, revealing a silver necklace with a carefully carved locket on it. I was even more confused then before. 

"What is that?" I asked carefully. I was inexplicably drawn to it and had to fight myself from grabbing it out of the box. 

"Right now, it's my gift to you," Genevieve assured me. "Take it." 

That's all I needed to hear and the next thing I knew, I was holding the locket in my hands. 

"I'm still really confused," I admitted, forcing my eyes off of the locket so I could look up to Genevieve. As I did, I saw the figure of Allison flicker, and I couldn't help but gasp. That definitely didn't help my confusion. 

"I'm afraid I don't have much more time," Genevieve's voice crackled. "Don't worry, I'll be able to show you everything when it happens." 

"What do you mean by it?" I begged for more answers. 

The face of Allison Argent twisted into the sweetest of smiles as she said in a light, almost even upbeat tone, "When you die, of course." 

With that, the timed sprinklers came on. As the water fell onto Allison's body, it quickly dissipated, taking the spirit of one Genevieve Carodine with it. Next thing I knew, she was gone. altogether. 

I looked around, hoping she would reappear somewhere, but I knew she wasn't going to. Her final words rang in my ears over and over again, like she knew something about my death that I didn't. I had a feeling I really didn't want to know too much about it anyways. 

I remembered the locket I held in my hands and looked down at it. It was Genevieve's gift to me and as haunting as everything had just been, I couldn't bring myself to throw it back into the box, so instead I stuffed it in my pocket. I crossed my arms over my chest, shaking slightly as I watched the grave fill itself back up. Despite what had just happened, I definitely wasn't convinced that I wasn't crazy. 

Even though I ran to the entrance of the cemetery, the sprinklers had managed to give me a good shower. Walking back to the McCall house, I began shivering. Even worse, I began thinking about what had just happened. Finding the grave hadn't actually answered anything, it'd just gave me more questions.

Headlights lit up the street as a car approached. I hadn't bothered looking up as I figured the car would just keep driving. I was wrong, though, and the car slowed down as it began to drive next to me. 

I lifted my head to try to figure out what was going on, only to see Theo Raeken's head popping out of it. The older boy show me a kind smile. I started to smile back before remembering I wasn't supposed to trust him. Instead I just nodded at the boy and waited for him to say something. 

"Hey, Charlotte. Now, I really wasn't expecting to see you walking the streets at this time," Theo greeted. 

"I, uh, just went for a walk to clear my mind," I lied, hoping he wouldn't notice. After all, I had lied plenty of times when teachers had asked me where I'd gotten all those cuts and bruises from not too long ago, so maybe I'd finally gotten good at it. 

"You go for a swim too?" Theo questioned, raising his eyebrows. 

I looked down at my clothes, realizing that they were still practically dripping wet. I sighed in defeat and tried to think of what to say. 

"Why don't you let me give you a ride home, I can see you shivering from here," Theo offered kindly. "Seriously, I hear hypothermia really blows." 

I let out a winded breath, looking over at Theo. A voice in the back of my mind told me I wasn't supposed to trust him, but then I remembered Scott wanted to give him a chance. I had to trust Scott more then my delusions. I didn't want to give into my insanity again. 

"Sure," I nodded slowly. Theo stopped his truck so I could walk around and get in. 

We drove most of the time in silence, the only sounds were the music from Theo's radio and me telling him to turn every once and a while. Finally, we got back to the McCall house. 

"Do you need anything else, Charlotte?" Theo questioned, his eyes watching me carefully. 

Shaking my head, I unbuckled my seat belt. "No, I'm fine," I hesitated. "Could you actually not mention this to anybody?" 

"Why wouldn't you want people to know you went for a walk?" Theo questioned. 

I opened Theo's truck door but I didn't get out quite yet. Instead, I thought for a moment before looking over at the other werewolf. "Have you seen the others with me? They worry about everything. I don't want them to worry about this." 

"You don't like them fretting of you, do you?" Theo guessed, hitting my thoughts right on the nose, for the most part. 

The answer was no, I didn't. I know the pack cared about me, but that didn't mean they didn't treat me differently. It was out of love, but still, living life as if I was made of glass was getting old. 

"It's whatever," I told Theo. I slid out of the truck. "Thanks a lot for the ride. See you at school." 

Okay so if you guys have read my previous author's notes, you'd know that i've been super conflicted about writing in first person. it's definitely not my favorite way to write anymore as I feel like I write better in third, but this story and the first story was written in first and i don't have the heart or the time to edit it all to third. that being said, all following books, prequels and otherwise, will be in third as it'll probably be a lot easier for me to write. thanks so much for all of your support guys! 

also, last friday i turned seventeen (woohoo the age of the dancing queen) and i realized almost exactly three years ago i started Charlotte's story. i can't believe i've come so far, honestly. so here was an update to celebrate how far we've come!!

Question - When Charlotte turned on some music to help her forget about her worries, what song do you think she was playing?