A tidbit of chapter one.
Charlie knew there was no such thing as a Prince Charming by the time she was ten years old.
After all, Charlie had just turned ten when her mother’s prince charming Rowland had thrown his glass of wine at her mom and in his anger at apparently missing he put his fist through the decorative glass pane of their front door, effectively slicing his wrist open from palm to elbow causing her mom to have to rush him to the hospital while Charlie and her brother and sister were left behind to clean up the broken glass and the spattering of blood. If this was a prince charming, Charlie knew she never wanted one.
As luck would have it Charlie’s mom brought Rowland back from the hospital that same day alive and well. For a few weeks it seemed as though her parents had taken a hiatus on quarreling, but before long the palpable tension that seemed to have existed in her home for as long as she could remember was back in full force. Laughter was only heard in the home if Rowland was laughing the rest of the time was spent tip toeing about the house so as not to disturb him while his game was on tv or he was doing something else as earth shatteringly important. Happy times were but a foggy distant memory.
It was only a matter of time before Rowland found something new that angered him and though Charlie spent hours practicing the art of invisibility, at times like that she could only hope she would not be the next target of his anger.