"You deserve to see what you did."
She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth. "Oh my God! What is this?"
I looked at her and said the name I had never stopped thinking of.
"Lottie."
Her head snapped towards me.
"T-Tyler?"
She sat down hard on the couch and started crying. I crossed the room and crouched in front of her, hands light on her shoulders.
"Hey. It's okay."
"Oh my God! What is this?"
"I didn't know," she kept saying. "I swear I didn't know it was you..."
"I know you didn't."
When she finally steadied, I asked softly, "What happened? You were supposed to have this big, bright life."
She looked at her hands. "I tried."
Then she told me everything. The city. The small shoots. The waiting tables and helping at home. Her mother getting sick. Bills piling up. And time disappearing.
"The scar wasn't even what ended it," Charlotte added. She pushed up her sleeve. A pale line ran along her arm. "A minor accident years ago. Modeling agencies noticed it, but honestly, survival ended it first. Every time I tried to chase something, home needed me more."
