TORTURED SOUL | abby littman

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲.

    
   
   
  
   

chapter forty five

{ extremely unedited }

     
    
   
    
   

[ tw ; suicidal intentions ]

ROWAN WAS ON A DOWNWARD SPIRAL WITH NO CLUE HOW TO STOP. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to stop, but that wasn't the point. She was drinking more, her breakfast, lunch and dinner all replaced by whatever liqueur she could find. She was skipping classes, mostly chemistry, choosing to spend it with the stoners behind the school. She was ditching therapy, ignoring the way Paul kept trying to call or the spam of texts she would get from Stevie. She was hardly ever at Acree's house, always finding her way back to Camilla's house after a night of drinking. She chose to ignore the worry that seemed to be growing in Camilla. She'd spend the nights she wasn't drinking with Abby, but even then she'd have a buzz from the hours earlier even if it weren't as bad as it could've been. She hadn't talked to Cameron since their talk in the new room she was forced into and he didn't seem to care about her either, too caught up in how fucking amazing Raya was or some bullshit.

Rowan had never felt more happy.

Really.

It wasn't like she woke up with a constantly growing pit where her heart should be, sucking her soul, her spirit, her will to anything, into it, leaving her an empty shell. It wasn't like she was cursed with a brief moment of sobriety where it dawned on her how she was throwing away her life, both literally with the way she was destroying her organs and figuratively from how she was skipping school more often, her grades slipping more with each day. It wasn't like she was forced awake from night terrors that left her gasping for her, clutching for anything she could reach, only to be reminded she had nothing and no one she could turn to, left with only her loneliness.

Nah, she was feeling amazing.

Really.

Rowan was on top of the world, floating on cloud nine, and nothing could bring her down.

Nothing at all.

Not Abby blowing up her phone because she didn't come over when she said she would because she ended up passing out in Camilla's bed, not Camilla telling her the moment she woke up she was concerned about Rowan's drinking habits and backed out on coming out with her tonight too, not Stevie who took one look at her in school and went in the other direction without saying a word to her, completely breaking their promise of the two dealing with their shit together. None of it.

Nothing could pull Rowan back down to earth.

Something that would pain Rowan to admit two months ago was that she was now a regular to a bar in Boston, her fake ID doing her wonders, and she was there most nights and sometimes during the day and tonight was no different, walking in with a carefree smile.

Funny how things change with time.

Obviously, Rowan wouldn't prefer this, to be someone who survives off alcohol, but she was already here and, let's face it, she didn't really have any chance of avoiding it. Not with the burning shitpile that was her life. So, really, what could she do but accept it? At least this way she could at least enjoy her life instead of living in fear of, well, this happening.

"Hey, Jacob," Rowan greeted, sliding onto the seat at the end of the bar, the same one she always took since she started to come here after, something she still claims was not her fault, she had been banned from the other for starting a fight. Jacob, while slightly smarter than the other bartender whose name Rowan could not remember, didn't bother questioning her age and gave her whatever she wanted.