“Good, I’m glad to hear that.” Eliza scribbled another note before folding her hands in her lap. “And how about the other thing we discussed?”
River bristled, digging her fingers into her knees. As if that could help her. As if that could change the events of this morning.
“Remain calm, River,” her therapist encouraged. “Breathe.”
She hadn’t even realized she’d stopped doing that.
In and out.
River drew in a series of long breaths before shaking out her shoulders. “I… it’s not going well.”
A few months ago, Eliza proposed that River try talking with her mother, Tertia Waterborn. Eliza postulated that attempting to repair her relationship with her mother would,in turn, lead to River having a greater sense of control over her magic.
The problem was that even though the therapist was well-meaning, she didn’t know how cold Tertia really was. How heartless. No one truly did, except for River’s brother, Ryker. But Ryker hadn’t lived at Waterborn House for several years, leaving River alone with their parents.
That was probably for the best. After all, if River was alone, she couldn’t hurt anyone else. The souls already on her conscience counted in the thousands—she couldn’t afford to add any more.
Eliza sighed heavily, and River squirmed, avoiding making eye contact. She hated disappointing her therapist almost as much as she hated disappointing her brother. There weren’t many people in River’s life who cared about her, and even though she paid Eliza a hefty sum to listen to her problems, River considered her a friend of sorts.
“We’ve talked about this.” Eliza picked up her stylus.
“I know, I know.” River chewed on her lower lip, running her tongue over the cool metal of her piercing. The tugging sensation was just painful enough to ground her, and after a moment, she released the ring. “I tried again this morning, but it didn’t go well.”
That was an understatement, actually. Last night’s laser game didn’t go well—River’s favorite team, the Drahanian Dragons, lost by a landslide. Pablo Richeau, the Dragons’ star player, got injured and was carried off the field in the first few minutes of play. The team had never recovered after that, and they’d suffered their worst loss in over a decade.
Last night had been bad, but this morning had been awful on an entirely differentlevel.
“Tell me about it,” Eliza encouraged gently. “If you don’t mind.”
River did, in fact, mind. She minded so much that she wanted to bolt from this chair and run out of the building. She didn’t want to think about this morning ever again, let alone talk about it.
The only reason she stayed in her seat, the only reason she dug her fingers into the armrest and forced herself to remain still, was the screams that haunted her nightmares. The memories of the lives she’d cut short.
River didn’t want to hurt anyone else ever again, so she needed to do this. She needed to maintain control over her curse. If that meant opening up about things that caused her pain, flaying her soul open and leaving herself bare in front of Eliza, then she would do it.
Anything was better than calling down another storm upon innocent people.
“I was just getting home from the hospital this morning when I saw her,” River began in a quiet voice.
Last night, she’d worked her fifth overnight shift in a row. What should’ve been twelve hours at the hospital had become sixteen, which wasn’t abnormal in her line of work. Too exhausted to drive, she’d taken a rideshare back to her parents’ residence. Experience told her it would take several days of sleep before she felt semi-normal again. Just in time for her next set of shifts.
“Tertia was waiting for me at the dining room table,” she murmured.
Eliza leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Did she smile?”
Scoffing, River curled her fingers into fists. “Gods, no.”
She searched her memory for thelast time the Representative of the Fae had looked upon her with a trace of kindness, let alone an actual smile, but she came up short.
Theirs was not, nor had it ever been, a typical mother-daughter relationship. River had never been able to laugh with her mother, never sought her out for hugs or to share stories about school, friends, or anything that normal daughters talked to their mothers about.
In fact, she avoided the woman who’d given birth to her as much as possible.
This morning, Tertia had been sitting at the head of the long mahogany table, her back straight and her brown hair coiffed in a perfect chignon. Not a single strand had been out of place. Diamond earrings had twinkled in the morning light, and she’d worn a tailored cream pantsuit that probably cost as much as a small house.
“I’m sorry, River.” Eliza’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “I’m sure that was disappointing.”
Was it? It probably should’ve been, but Tertia’s hatred was a regular part of River’s life, just like the university classes she attended.