Loving Oliver

【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ２３ Ｌｏｖｉｎｇ Ｔｈｅ Ｅｇｇｓｈｅｌｌｓ Ｗｅ＇ｒｅ Ａｌｌ Ｓｔｅｐｐｉｎｇ Ｏｎ】

TW:Sexual Assault, Rape, Teen pregancy

Please be mindful when reading this chapter due to the current themes. Take care of yourself and each other loves.

【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ　２３　Ｌｏｖｉｎｇ　Ｔｈｅ　Ｅｇｇｓｈｅｌｌｓ　Ｗｅ＇ｒｅ　Ａｌｌ　Ｓｔｅｐｐｉｎｇ　Ｏｎ】

This dinner was a complete shit show. The high I had been briefly riding on when my gaze landed upon Ollie tonight was deceasing to the lowest of lows. And I had had the worst lows. I had all the chaos of my life pinging inside of me with no way out and the pain of learning what Judy had put into motion was leading me down the path of What if's? The most dangerous question known to mankind. And I didn't want to get stuck on that path again.

The numbness that had taken root in my body and traveled from head to toe with Judy at dinner was long gone and the rage had taken place. I would have been crying by now, full stop sobbing but tears seemed absent since I lost my daughter.

Completely absent.

I barely registered the tight hug Donna pulled me into or the gentle arm squeeze that Aspen gave me as we left Donna's house tonight. I was merely watching my body go through the motions of Sam gently leading me out the door with Owen holding the door open for us. I barely registered Sam helping me into the truck, helping me with my seatbelt, or gently squeezing my hand before he put his own seatbelt on before he turned the ignition and fired the truck to life back out onto the dirt road.

Sam drove us home in utter silence that night. The silence was paralyzing and it forced me to face the onslaught of memories I had made over the last six months.

Ollie's green gaze.

Ollie buying our daughter a crib.

Our first ultra sound.

Meeting with our lawyer to plan our emancipation.

House hunting for a little cottage in upstate New York.

Going to Coney Island after skipping school because I had the biggest craving for pink cotton candy.

Jessie Fucking Sanders.

Grabby, greedy, harsh hands.

Laughing, nasty breath, gasps for air.

The word No trying to leave my mouth but failing me at every gasp I made.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

My chest hurt and I found myself curling my fists. I wanted to cry, scream, shout, rage, to hit something just so this clawing need for getting this hurt would leave my fucking heart.

Leave my fucking body.

In the past I would have turned to drugs to numb everything. A nice little mental vacation from the anguish that tended to linger inside my chest but I'd made a promise. I didn't want to turn my emotions off I just wanted a chance to escape them.

To figure out a small reprieve of the waves that just seemed to keep knocking me under. The waves that tended to drown me filling my lungs until I felt as if I would burst.

I needed someone to throw me a flotation device.

And quick because my lungs were giving out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was on autopilot, going through the motions of the night.

Arrive home.

The door was opened for me and I walked through stiffly, my body still somehow ready for a fight, ready for another round of battle despite the lack of enemies.