The corner of Sky’s lip twitched in a barely-there smile, but I saw it, so it counted. “You act like zombies and chocolate can fix everything.”
I chuckled. “Well, it’s a start.”
16
SKY
Adam was right—itwasn’t fair for me to take all of my frustrations out on him and Fletcher, so I’d been trying really hard to unload in therapy.
My twice-a-week sessions were exhausting. I poured out my anger and sorrow and helplessness to Madeline in raw emotion, but she was right there, helping me through it all in that gentle, no-nonsense way of hers that never once felt judgmental, and I realized that somehow, through all of this? I’d learned to trust her.
Just like I’d learned to trust Fletcher and Adam. They were a part of me now. A part of my life in such a way that I couldn’t imagine changing.
On a cloudy Tuesday in May, I sat in my usual spot in the plush armchair with my knees drawn to my chest, listening to Madeline speak.
“Do you think you’re ready to move on to the next step of your journey?” she asked gently.
“What step is that?” Anxiety bubbled up. Fear of the unknown. Fear of change. All of it scared me, and I hated it.
Madeline smiled at me, both knowing and sympathetic at the same time. “Letting go,” she said. “All of these stories you’ve made up in your notebooks, the tales you told yourself back in that facility? They were coping mechanisms, and they served you well in that time. They kept you sane. But you have no need for them anymore. The stories you wrote about you and River are false fairytales that will never happen, and we need to come to terms with that.”
Tears pricked hot in the corners of my eyes. I swallowed around what felt like a thousand shards of glass emotion in my throat and bobbed my head in a single nod. I knew.
My brother had already moved on without me. He’d moved on over a year ago. It was time to do the same, to stop clinging to the truths I’d let myself foolishly believe—that River would swoop in and save me, that I’d be safe in my twin’s arms. Because in all reality? River had shattered my heart, and Fletcher and Adam were the ones to pick up the pieces.
“How do I do that, though?” I whispered through the pain. “I can’t just…pretend it never happened and move on with my life. It’s not that easy.”
She smiled. “I’m not saying it’s easy. In fact, I know it’s not. It’s probably one of the hardest things you’ll ever have to do, to detach from that version of yourself that felt so helpless and alone, but Sky? You’re not him anymore. You’re safe and you’re loved.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks. I didn’t even bother to wipe them away; I simply let them fall.
“Here is what I suggest,” Madeline said, once I’d pulled myself together again. “And you don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable, but remember, comfort isn’t always a good thing. Sometimes, stepping outside our comfort zone is necessary for growth and healing.”
“Okay.” I was willing to hear what she had to say, at the very least.
“What if you performed a ritual? A letting go? Take those notebooks that you wrote your fairytales in, and burn them. Set the pages free to the flames and the ash and start anew with a fresh page. A new beginning.”
I wiped my eyes and sniffed. “Yeah. Maybe…”
I went home that afternoon feeling empty. I didn’t say much to Fletcher on the drive back, and I retreated to my bedroom, needing time alone.
I spent time in my room, reading over old passages, old stories that I had written. Ones that I used to daydream up while pacing the floors of my cell, dreaming of the day River would break us out of there and we’d be free.
Well. It’d happened. Not exactly the way I’d envisioned it, but I was free. There was no happy ending for me. Just separation and an aching emptiness that went on forever.
Maybe Madeline was right, though. Maybe I needed to cut my ties with River, once and for all. He hadn’t hesitated to cut me deep, where it hurt the most. I closed my eyes and pressed a hand to my chest.
Over dinner, I brought it up. “Could you maybe help me with something?” I asked, picking at the strands of spaghetti left on my plate. I didn’t have much of an appetite tonight, even though Adam’s spaghetti was one of my favorite meals.
“Sure, what is it?” Fletcher asked.
“I…” I swallowed. “I want to burn my old notebooks. Madeline thinks it would be a good idea to let the old stories go, and fire symbolizes, like, endings and new beginnings, you know? Maybe you could help me set a fire so I could burn them.”
Adam hummed. “Are you certain, Sky?”
I nodded slowly. “They aren’t my truth anymore, even if it hurts. I can’t keep holding onto something that isn’t real. Inorder to heal, I need to move on with my life. River’s already moved on with his.” I huffed out a sad laugh. “He doesn’t miss me at all.”
“You don’t know that, sweetheart,” Fletcher said gently. “But of course we’ll help you.”
