Charlotte could remember when she was little, that she used to be petrified of thunder. Someone had told her that thunder was enchanted so that if you heard it, you would immediately be struck by a bolt of lightning. Now, as a thirteen year old, she was to wise and mature for these kinds of things. Those times were the past, not the future, when she had been a silly, quite annoying, fledgling. Most people said that she missed her father. Maybe she did, and maybe she didn’t. Charlotte would never let on.
Tonight was one of those days when you discover you’ve been hiding something from yourself. I was laying awake, deep in thought, when I heard the rumbling of thunder. A bolt of lightning soon followed. It was actually quite a beautiful thing- the way it lit up the sky, wanting to show the world its power. When I was little, I used to go downstairs whenever there was thunder. My mom would then hug me and cuddle me until the fear passed away like an ocean tide. Once, my dad was down there. Before he got hurt. Before he left me forever.