For My Soul

Chapter 41 Part 2

Chapter 41, Part 2

 Hi! Happy reading loves. Please leave me comments. I am a little proud of this chapter. Also trigger warning for CSA.

Also make sure you read the letters in the previous part. They are important to understanding why Riv's head  is where it is.

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River's POV.

I am unsettled. Amelia is still writing. She isn't aware that the walls are shrinking. How could I write to my younger self when I failed him so fucking much. He'd kill me now if he knew what I let happen. How I slept in that bed with Sylvie, high as a fucking kite, thinking Audrie was safe when she fucking wasn't.

I feel sick. My brain breaks in front of me and begins to play out disgusting and terrifying scenarios that I can't get out of my head. Usually, this happens when I am asleep. Not when I am awake.

Am I awake?

I don't know what happened. How it happened. What Audrie actually went through. But my head always does an excellent job of showing me what may have occurred. What she fucking experienced as a goddamn four-year-old.

I almost heaved then, realizing this journaling was a very, very bad idea. This just reiterates that we are very fucking different. Me and Amelia.

She writes peacefully. She is peaceful because she is getting the thoughts out of her head, allowing her to process and heal.

Mine are now unlocked into my consciousness. More so than ever.

My legs move before my brain can even register that I need air. My body takes over in the flight, going downstairs, ignoring Amelia's one soft call of my voice.

I am probably going to be sick. I can feel my stomach turn. My mouth fills with saliva. That's fine.

My limbs and body go down the stairs, through the front room, into the garden, and I throw up. I heave the contents of my stomach out through my mouth with the exact same violence as my brain brings memories out from the locked boxes and in front of my eyes.

I was hungover. I was hungover as hell when a social worker finally came back to the house and told me I was allowed visitation. Everyone had been at mine the night before, all the group and others. Fuck I was so fucked up. We all were. With Dad in the hospital and Audrie out of the house, my playful chaos had descended and spiraled into recklessness. I didn't care.

The social worker could probably smell the alcohol on us. There was probably gear around, too. I didn't look around when I opened the door to them.

I was a mess.

They had labeled me as a mess. Too young and too incapable to look after Audrie.

But yeah. After two weeks of separation, they finally allowed me to see her. They took me there to the house.

The house was fine. Normal.

We sat in the garden. Audrie hardly looked at me. She was different. She was clean and well-kept, but she was quieter and didn't smile with all her baby teeth anymore.

At first, I thought it was me. I thought she hated me now because I let her go. Because I abandoned her with these strangers.

But then a few more weeks passed, and I could feel it. Every time I looked at her. I could feel it in my fucking bones that something was off. She hardly looked at me anymore; she hardly looked at the woman who was looking after her, who sat outside with us and allowed me to try and interact with her.