I turn the box over in my hands. It's dark. I can't see my hand in front of my face let alone the contents of the box but the Devil told me my soul was in it, that he's kept it in here since I was a little girl, that he never trusted anyone else with it for a second because flighty, free-spirited magical people who feel this deeply aren't trustworthy or responsible (all lies) and so he thought it would be safest with him. He started this off, tripping me as I ran and then steadfastly refusing to pick me up or stop and thus began the pattern of tripping and falling on my face for the rest of my life. I've broken teeth and I've broken hearts too in the process. It seemed like it would never end.
But is it over or is this just the beginning?
I can't ask the expert. Sam, the only person hellbent on seeing me get somewhere. As everyone else was demanding I stay in one place Sam was putting me through the paces, making sure I came out the other side of the grief for Jake and for Cole, learning to live around and through it, instead of in spite of it. You don't get over it, you learn to live with it. It becomes a big part of you but not every part of you. Then he taught me how to swim, sick of seeing me saved, excused or helped (A marked contrast to when I fall), making sure I could do it myself. I got a pretty mermaid as my badge, to hang in the window I look out each morning as a reminder that some things I can do myself.
Sam finally came crashing down all around me, giving in to his needs the way they all do, eventually. I can't figure this out. I don't recognize it. Now I can't ask him about it. Understand?
Do I put this thing back wherever it's supposed to fit and pick up where I left off? They said I was still a child, they said I was stuck there fast, someplace vague between nine and seventeen, with events to mark the days tied up like knots but no way to chart the path. Becasue I'm not a map, I'm a tangle, a string frayed on both ends and almost worn right through the middle but tied tightly around them nonetheless.
I never felt like there was a hole inside, just more of a distant ache for myself, for this thing that's supposed to be worth so much that they would give up each other for me, only to watch me turn around and fall on my face again, getting up only to run the other way.
I hope I can do this. Figure out how to put it back. Make myself whole. It's a start, maybe.
