This question seemed to make all the breath go out of Charlotte and she quickly sat on the couch, seeming to be exhausted, “Oh…well where to begin…I…I don’t know.”

I sat next to her, but not too close to make her freak out again, “Why not with the beginning?”

She shook her head, “Why don’t we just forget about this. You can forget about me, about all of this,” She shot out of her seat and grabbed my arm with her warm touch, beginning to shove me out the door. I stopped myself in the doorframe, “No,” I gritted, “I want to know why,” I shoved back and as I expected she shuddered away from my touch and took her grip on my arm away, “Now the beginning?”

Charlotte huffed a sigh, defeated. She was silent for a bit, eyes looking down at the ground. I expected her to flip out on me again but instead she said, “My mother was gorgeous. Beautiful brown skin of a beautiful hispanic woman. As you can see, I got most of my looks from my father, leaving me envious of her…”

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