The Recovery

~Sequel to The Accident~ Though a sequel, you do not necessarily need to read The Accident first to understand this story; Clodagh, years after her brother and step sisters suicide, is still struggling to move on. To help with her therapy, she delves into the past and uncovers horrifying truths about her family. In the midst of her investigation, she meets someone almost as broken as she is. But what if family history repeats itself? And is she even ready to bring her walls down and let anyone in?

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10. Chapter 7


"Is that your mums diary?" Louise curiously asked.

I avoided her look and nodded.

"She used to keep that thing glued to her hip! I found it one day. Never read it, like, but she freaked out and kept it by her side twenty four seven after that."

I didn't make an attempt at any response.

"Are you reading it?" she prodded.

"Um.. Well.. Dr Kohli said it might be good to find out why mum stayed with James."

"Angry with her now?"

"A bit" I said softly. She smiled slightly, but sighed.

"I do understand, Clodagh. Your mother had the tendency to be infuriating."

I nodded, even though she clearly didn't understand.

 

I sat on my bed, hovering over the diary. I didn't like what I had just read at all. I gulped, and found the page I was looking for, with its newly found dog ear.

"Dear diary,

He's trying. He really is. He brought me on a really nice date." She had signed it off, but scribbled it out and continued writing.

"He was upset because he thought I didn't enjoy it."

Another sentence scribbled out.

"I told him I did. He said I needed to trust him. I told him I did. He didn't believe me."

More of the black lines of denial.

"It's only a bruise. He told me we both needed to try harder, so we both apologised.

Alice"

My breathing was loud, aggressive and rattled. Her writing had shrunk, like a metaphor for her self esteem, worth and confidence.

"The actual bastard" I breathed. I was never particularly close to my mother. Hugo was always the apple of her eye and I was too young when she died, but that didn't stop the hot, angry tears rolling down my face. I got my shyness from my mothers fear, my rage from my fathers brutality.

The word father burned.

I dragged my eyes down the rest of the page, my mothers fear creeping more and more into her words.

A passage at the end of the page emerged, no dear diary, no sign off, just tiny, defeated handwriting.

"He wanted to have sex, but I was afraid he'd hurt me again. I didn't want him to see the bruises. I told him no, that I was tired. I feel as if I've been raped."

I flung the diary onto the ground, grabbed my phone and thumped down the apartments staircases. I ran outside, dialling James' number, gritting my teeth as it went to voicemail.

"What the actual HELL James?! You PRICK! " I screamed down the phone, oblivious of the people staring at me. "Why would you do that? " I then screamed like a banshee down the mobile, unable to articulate my fury. I was furious, and tempted to throw my phone into the Liffey, but I refrained, hand and phone mid air, and pressed the end call button instead.

I hope that call disturbed him. I was angry at my mother, but no one deserved to feel that way.

No one.

Not even James himself, that's how bad it was.

Bastard.

 

Hello guys :3 long time no see! I apologise, but the reasons are kinda private, so I appreciate your understanding :3 I hope to go back to my original routine and publish at least one chapter a weekend :3 hope you enjoy, and hope you had a good Christmas! :3

Aoife xxx

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