CHARLOTTE QUICKLY LEARNED THAT, AS A TEENAGER, SHE TENDED TO DO RECKLESS THINGS. Of course, by the standards of any other teenager, she was simply being herself, but as a teenager who once was a grown woman with a husband and common sense, she was rather irritated with herself, but only ever in hindsight, never in the present action.

Case in point as to how she and Marty were currently stuck up in a tree.

"I blame you," Marty sighed, settling back against the branch as Charlotte tried to find a way down that wouldn't break a bone or mangle them beyond repair.

"You know, you were the one who decided to ask if I wanted to come out today, and you were the one who didn't want to go dancing because you had a 'bad feeling,'" she pointed out, lowering her voice to mock him as she put 'bad feeling' in air quotes, sighing as she gave up, settling down across from him.

"But I did," he argued, "I have a bad feeling about tonight in general, but I felt that I had to call you out."

"Maybe you're planning on killing me," she teased, nudging him with her foot, and he smiled at that, though he was still clearly unnerved by the situation they were in.

Rolling her eyes, she pushed herself back up, looking down towards the ground which seemed farther away than when they first climbed the tree in the first place. "Well, I'm going to be grounded for the rest of my life when my folks find out, so I might as well spend it dancing. Come on, we're getting out of here."

Marty's protests went unheard as she stood, nearly slipping as she tried to find the safest way down, her shoes not meant to hold their own against the uneven wood, her palms sweating as she held onto the branch, nodding to herself as she found the clearest section, holding her breath.

Marty was the one to scream as she jumped, her arms and legs scraped as she passed by all the branches and leaves, trying to keep as still and straight as possible so as not to get too badly torn up, dropping into a crouch at the last second as she hit the ground so her legs wouldn't shatter.

Bloodied and torn up, she looked towards Marty and gave him a bright smile, the boy simply staring at her in horror, hiding deeper in his branch in an attempt to avoid the inevitable, averting his gaze.

"Come on!" she called, pouting when he shook his head, "Please..."

Marty sighed, making a sound in the back of his throat as he shuffled around, searching for a way he could crawl his way down without tearing his clothes and skin the way Charlotte did, drawing sharp breaths every few moments whenever he felt like he was going to fall.

Deciding to take pity on her sweet, weak-hearted boyfriend, Charlotte made her way around the tree, looking out for crevices and sturdy looking branches, telling him which way to go and whether to move or stop, wincing at the way he'd tense and gasp whenever she'd sharply tell him to freeze, a look of pure fear etched onto his features.

It took a good ten minutes for him to fully inch his way down, and it was a rather painful sight, watching a boy as sturdy and good looking as him so scared. Of course, Charlotte wasn't surprised in the slightest, Marty was a softie at heart, which meant she had to be the one to instigate anything exciting between them, as he was much too respectful and cautious to do anything.

She squeaked as his foot slipped on a loose branch—one she hadn't caught in time to stop him—Marty shouting as he lost his balance, falling to the ground in a heap. She rushed towards him immediately, first checking his head, sighing with relief when she pulled her hand away and found no blood, checking over the rest of him, laden with guilt.

"I'm fine," he sighed, pushing himself up to his feet, trying not to stumble as he gained his bearings, holding onto her as he did, "You'll be the death of me, Lottie."

She giggled as he pressed kisses all across her cheek and neck, holding onto his arm as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close as they hid in the shadows of the tree, letting out a slight shriek as he pushed her against the tree, hooking his hands under her legs. She reached up to tangle her hands in his hair as she pulled him into a bruising kiss, wrapping her legs around his waist, reveling in the way he held her, almost reverently, yet still commanding.

She paused, however, when she felt a strange sensation. Pulling away, she let him kiss down her neck as she searched the darkness for the source of the feeling, her heart stopping and blooding turning cold when she saw the figure not too far away, clearly watching them, completely still.

"Wait," she breathed, tapping his shoulder, breath caught in her throat.

Marty pulled away instantly, making sure she could stand on both feet before taking a step back, holding up his hands, searching her face with concern. "Are you okay, did I do something?"

"No, you're fine," she said quickly, rushing forward and jumping, wrapping her arms and legs around him, dropping her face in the crook of his neck, "Someone's watching us, let's get out of here."

Marty cursed under his breath, fighting against his urge to turn around and look, opting to just take her hand and race towards the streetlights, making sure they stayed out of the shadows, making their way to the speakeasy like she wanted, his grip on her hand like iron.

Charlotte allowed herself one glance behind her, her heart stopping when she realized the figure had disappeared.

The two tried to relax the best they could, Charlotte turning her attention back to Marty who did earn himself a few battle scars during his descent from the tree, his nice shirt torn and pants dirtied from his fall, one knee starting to tear.

"Poor baby," she cooed, clinging onto his arm, taking a look at her own body, "This wasn't really how we were expecting the night to go, huh?"

"Nah, but it was fun," he reasoned, squeezing her arm encouragingly, "I'm serious. I mean, sure, it's late and we still haven't gone dancing, but I think tonight was just a clear sign of where our relationship is."

"What do you mean?" she asked, unsure of how to take his words, glancing around at the empty sidewalks, feeling goosebumps prickle against the warm night air.

"Well," he began, pausing so he could stand in front of her, holding her hands in his own, "We did just climb a tree together because both of us realized we've never done it, then you patiently guided me and helped me down the tree and didn't mock me 'cause I was scared. You know what that says?"

"We need to stop listening to my ideas?" she joked, feeling her stomach flip as he let go of her hands to wrap his arms around her waist, tugging her closer while still looking at her face.

"It says that we fit really well together," he said, and she had nothing to say to that, simply hanging her arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair, smiling up at him.

The two stood there for a moment, under the cover of the night and the glow of the streetlights, in their own little world, where one hid a secret and the other hid nothing, both entirely enraptured in the other.

"Come on," he said, moving to take her hand, "Let's go dancing. Celebrate your last day as a free woman 'fore your parents send you to a convent."

She laughed as she took his hand, the two racing down the sidewalk towards their favorite speakeasy where everything would still be in full swing by the time they arrived. She was so caught up in the moment that she failed to recognize the same familiar feeling of being watched.

º º º

Charlotte loved to dance. She hadn't done it much in her first life—at least, she thought she didn't, she couldn't remember much, now that she thought about it—but she loved it now. As a teenager, feeling free and loose enough to dance without care was something she reveled in, something that most other girls her age couldn't say. Dancing with women much older than her was exciting all to itself, and she often forgot that she was with Marty when she was pulled onto a table by a pretty blonde with a short dress and clinking pearls.

Marty loved dancing as well, as he had learned to dance from a young age, and he loved to learn more, loved the way everyone inside danced without care or reason or proper training, just danced for the hell of it, for the spontaneity that he didn't always have.

That was why he had been drawn to Charlotte. According to him, she'd been a free spirit as long as he'd known her, never afraid to take risks. It seemed accurate enough, and she was glad she was the one to pull him out of his comfort zone, at least a little.

Because at the end of the day, Marty was still wary of a lot of things. Wary of the news of speakeasies being raided and people being taken to jail, some people getting seriously injured, though there was never any real proof of that, only rumor and sensational news, but he took it seriously, because the last thing he wanted was for anyone to get hurt, especially Charlotte. Hurt him, he could take it, but the world needed her around, according to him.

Charlotte, of course, never took his worries seriously, reminding him that all the raids were on the bigger speakeasies, that it was a one-in-a-million chance for them to get caught and taken in, and there was no point in wasting their time worrying when they could be spending it living.

Because when she had no worry of dying, she could live however she wanted.

At least, she assumed she wouldn't die the second time around. She often toyed with the idea that this was an accidental fluke, that when she died in this life, she would be gone for good, gone to wherever she believed she would go.

But then she remembered that she would die regardless, so she might as well have fun with it.

That was what she thought when she jumped off the sticky table and into Marty's arms, the boy not quite ready, the two nearly braining themselves on the end of the bar if not for him pulling them both up at the last second, everyone cheering, as they thought it was an elaborate dance move, the two teens breathing heavily as they stared at each other, Charlotte pressed flush against him as he held her in his arms.

"That was fun," she breathed, laughing as he dropped her down, the two stumbling towards the barstools to take a little break, hearts still beating rapidly.

"Hey, listen," Marty said, leaning close so he could be heard over the music, "I know we'll probably never see each other again after tonight, what with your parents, so I just wanted you to know that I—"

"Look out!" a gruff voice called, and the two jumped away quickly, allowing a drunk man to ram right into the bar, the bottles in the back rattling dangerously.

Charlotte laughed as the man threw himself back onto the dance floor, stepping towards Marty who was looking around with wary eyes, clearly unnerved. "What were you going to say?"

"Oh yeah," the boy said, clearing his throat as he stepped forward, "It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to, but I need you to know that I—"

"Coppers!"

Shrieks and shouts filled the small basement as everyone ran in every which way, Charlotte losing Marty as police burst into the room, trying to catch as many people as possible. Small and light, she was carried by the crowd, the lights flickering on and off as the bar owners tried to shut down and run, dodging chairs and stools thrown by desperate patrons not wanting to get caught.

"Charlotte!" Marty screamed, his voice on the other side of the room.

"Marty!" she cried, struggling to get past the crowd, shrieking when she felt an iron grip on her arm, tugging her into the shadows.

Whirling around, she caught sight of the figure from before, though she couldn't make out any features in the darkness of the room, but she knew it was the same figure, a scream caught in her throat as she stared up in horror, sounds fading into white noise and her vision going blurry.

Then there was a sharp pain cracking down onto her skull, sharper and harder than anything before in her entire life, so painful she didn't even feel it.

Then black.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

( 07.19.18 )

Charlotte is the epitome of the "you don't die you either kill yourself or get killed. whatchu gonna do. watchu gonna do" vine and I love it

I had debated heavily on whether or not I wanted to kill Charlotte in this chapter. I wanted to, then I decided not to, then I did it anyways. Keep in mind, the guy in the shadows didn't kill her, he just wanted to grab her, and that's really important later on in the story.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!