Forever and Always

Message In A Bottle

"Just call me if you need anything. Remember to keep updating me on how she is. Got it, Leclerc?" Antea ordered, pointing a stern finger at Charles. He nodded, knowing to follow her instructions if he wanted to get on the good side of his girlfriend's new friend.
"Good. Make sure she rests and gets enough food, and also do something with her. Whether it's reading one of her books or managing to get her out, just try," Antea finalised before walking out of the front door and quietly closing it behind her.

Now, Charles was alone again with Emi. He didn't know why he felt so afraid - so afraid to hurt her. Maybe it was because of how she had flinched when he touched her, even though it was so gently that he could barely feel the material of her shirt under his fingers. She flinched hard, too. And it had made Charles feel so guilty.

A million thoughts ran through his mind, trying to destroy him. You shouldn't have let her out of your sight. It's your fault he got to her. She's traumatised because you didn't get to her on time. She'll never be able to do certain things again without getting flashbacks! It was wrecking him.

"Beautiful?" he whispered, gaining her attention just slightly. The phone call with the lady from the police department had brought her back to reality a little bit, but she still drifted off back to the fairies every so often. Right now, she seemed to be ok, but he didn't know how long it would last before she was off in her own little world again.
"Do you want to do anything? I can read one of your books with you, or we can watch a movie. We can do whatever you want," he continued, desperation making its way into his tone. She looked over at him, her deep brown eyes piercing into him.

The was silence for a moment, her expression blank and Charles not knowing what was going through her mind. "Do you have any suggestions? Maybe something you do when you just want to, I don't know, let go of everything," she whispered.

Charles thought for a moment before something finally came into his mind. Something he knew might be able to help because he'd seen it help his mother. 
"I've got something in mind, but we are going to have to go down to the beach for it..." Charles trailed off, leaving an anxious expression across Emilia's face.

"Tell me what it is," she whispered a moment later, after she had taken a deep breath and accepted that she had to try if she wanted to be able to be helped. 

~

Forty-five minutes later, Emi was clinging to Charles's side as they walked the five minute journey down to the beach. In one hand, Charles clutched a glass bottle, along with a piece of paper, while his other hand had Emi wound around it. He held onto her tightly, not willing to let go of her, and clearly, she didn't want to let go either. 

"What are we even doing, Cha?" she whispered beside him, the quiet Monday night allowing them to seem louder than they were to fill the emptiness of their surroundings. 

"Whenever my mama needed to let go of things, she'd write everything she wanted to say down onto a piece of paper, put it in a glass bottle, and come down to the ocean where she would let it float away forever. She said it was freeing, the way she was able to let everything she'd said on that piece of paper go and it wouldn't bother her anymore. So, I thought maybe you should try it," Charles whispered, breathing deeply as he recounted his mother. 

After a moment of silence, Emi sighed. "Your mother was one of the smartest people I knew. She always knew how to deal with things," she whispered. 

Charles agreed with a simple but sad nod as they stepped down onto the sandy surface of the beach, the sound of small waves crashing against each other filling the night. When they had found a spot to sit down, Charles handed the paper to Emi, pulling a pen out of his pocket for her to write with. She seemed to hesitate a moment, and Charles watched her cautiously as she seemed to fight a small mental battle, before finally taking a deep breath and shaking her head. She placed the pen to the paper, the ink spilling out and creating a small black blotch before she picked it up again.