Char laid there for a long time, just letting her gaze trace the pattern on the sheets before her. A part of her felt acutely nauseous, somehow unable to shake the sick feeling in her gut.
Finally, she seemed to find her voice again. "I'm so confused," she whispered, the sound hoarse. The spot on the pillow just beneath her was starting to become noticeably damp. "I always-- I thought that I'd meet a nice boy who would like me and it would all be simple. We'd get married and have kids... I wouldn't have to face down a rabbithole of having to tell mom and dad, or facing the possibility of not getting to have any kids, or wondering if I'm a horrible person because I don't even know if I'm only feeling like this because no boy has ever paid any attention to me like this--"
That confession seemed to trigger something inside of her again, Charlotte choking out a sob as she clutched onto the sheets beneath her, burying her face in her pillow as though trying hard to hide herself away from the world.
"This is all wrong," she choked out, the sound croaky and hoarse at best. "It wasn't supposed to be like this--"