enchanted
chapter 51, let it all go.

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

Rory had avoided Isaiah like the plague since they broke up, she had drank more bottles of whiskey than she could count.

She knew this wasn't healthy but it was the only thing that numbed it all and made her forget.

She regretted her decision of picking whiskey and drugs over Isaiah but she couldn't bring herself to stop. Because she didn't want to stop.

The blonde visited Freya but got nothing from her and for once she understood how her aunt was feeling, the feeling of guilt that she couldn't shake, the feeling that didn't try hard enough to save her and the feeling of wanting it all to stop. Except Rory did find a way to stop it but she knew Freya wouldn't. She was too smart for drugs. Way too smart.

"How is she doing?" Rory asked Bonnie, the boy sitting at Pol's kitchen table and the blonde leaning on the door frame.

"She sleeps a lot. She sees her," Bonnie replied.

"Makes it feel fake," Rory nodded, she did the same.

"Why don't you go up and see her? She needs you," Bonnie commented, looking the girl in the eye.

"She doesn't want to see me, Bon. I've tried she yelled at me and slammed the door in my face. I mean I deserve it but it isn't my fault Lottie was on her own, I was being practical. If she'd of stayed there any longer, she wouldn't have been able to cope. I know what she's going through."

"Finn doesn't let her out of his sight."

"He's lost his brother and sister, he can't lose Freya."

Rory pushed herself off the doorframe, walking towards the brunette boy. "Look after her. Please," she asked, although her tone made it seem more like a demand rather than ask.

"I will."

The blonde nodded before leaving the kitchen, the lump in her throat growing as she tried her best to swallow it. She wasn't going to cry. Shelby's don't cry, no matter what. As she opened the door she noticed Finn and Isaiah standing outside, waiting to enter the house. Isaiah locked eyes with the blonde then looked down when he noticed her red eyes. She was high. Again.

Rory seemed to pay the boy any attention even though it was killing her that she didn't pick him. The lump in her throat was getting bigger, she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying. "Ro?" Finn waved a hand in her face, gaining her attention. She hummed. "You okay? Did you see Frey?"

"I'm fine and no, she slammed the door in my face. She doesn't want to see me and I get it," she nodded.

"I'll talk to her."

"Don't, it's fine. I promise. She's a big girl she can make her own decisions and seeing me isn't one that she wants," she shrugged.

"You're giving up then?"

"I have a headache, Finny. I just want to go home and sleep it off. I'm fine, she'll come around eventually and when that happens she knows where to find me. So no I'm not giving up, I'm giving her space."

"Are you going to sleep it off or drink it off?" Isaiah asked, his tone cold and sharp. A look of hurt crossed Rory's face before she replied.

"Sleep, Isaiah."

"Really? Because your eyes are looking a little red," he pointed to her eyes.

"Because I'm tired. I haven't slept properly."

"Stop doing drugs and you might do," he shrugged, walking inside the house leaving Rory hurt and Finn shifting his weight between his feet awkwardly. She had no right to be hurt though because she did this, she hurt him first. She knew that.

"I'm going to go check on Freya," Finn coughed and Rory sent him a small smile and a nod.

"Yeah, you do that."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"I always am aren't I?" she asked.

"Yeah," he nodded and disappeared into the house, leaving Rory standing outside like an outcast.

She was jealous of Freya and how everyone helped her grieve Lottie. She wished they had have helped her instead of brushing it under the rug. She was still a girl who had just lost her dad.

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

The blonde found herself in the last place she thought she'd been in a long time. She knocked on the office door, she knew he was in there.

"Come in."

She let out a breath before opening the door and blue eyes looking at her.

"I need help, Tom," she whispered.

"With what?" he asked, gesturing to seat across from him for her to sit at.

"I think you already know. Freya's already ran her mouth to anyone who'd listen," she replied, sitting back in the chair.

"You're using?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it numbs it all. Makes me forget everything," she told him, blue eyes lock with his as she spoke. "Isaiah made me pick."

"Between?" Tommy asked, putting his pen down and standing up to make his way closer to his niece.

"Him and drugs and whiskey," she replied. "And I picked them over him and it's killing me. He won't even look at me anymore, he avoids me like the plague."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Help me."

"How?"

"I need you uncle Tom. I need to stop and I can't. I don't know how to. How do you stop it?" She asked, looking up at him, tears beginning to drip from her eyes.

He didn't say anything as he pulled her into a hug that she didn't fight. She didn't have the energy to fight or hate him anymore. She had nothing else to lose. He stroked her hair as she cried just like he did when she was younger and she would go crying into his room when she had a nightmare and her dad was at the pub. He found peace in drinking and nobody batted an eye lid so why was it so wrong when she did it?

"I don't want to be this person anymore. I don't know who I am anymore," she mumbled into his chest. "I hate myself for using, I hate myself for going back to the bottle but I can't stop because it helps. They're all helping Freya and no one helps me except drugs and alcohol. And I know it's not healthy but I can't stop."

"I'll help you."

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

She followed behind him as they made their way to where John's funeral was. "You deserve a proper goodbye so go on. Say bye to him," he pointed further across from them.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, confusion etched on her face. "You can't leave me."

"I'm not going to leave you," he promised. "I'm going to wait here while you say goodbye and then we're going back to yours and you're throwing all the drugs and alcohol you have lying around away. Stop any temptation."

Rory caught a glimpse of the man she grew up with. The man who helped raise her rather than the man the war had turned him in to and she found herself smiling at him. A genuine smile. The smile she hadn't had since Christmas Eve last year.

She nodded at him and set off to where the vardo once was. Tommy watched her sit down and pick up the ash that had stayed in the grass.

Rory fiddled with the ash, her eyes closed as she took a breath. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I wasn't quick enough to warn you," she sniffed. "I hate that you're not here anymore. I need my dad back."

"And I swear I'm stopping using and drinking. For good," she nodded at the air. If anyone could see her, they would think she was insane.

The girl shivered as she felt cold air pass her.

But it wasn't cold? She wiped her tears before running her finger over the ash once more.

"I love you and I'm not going to disappoint you anymore," she whispered as she looked up the sky. "I miss you."

She made her way back to Tommy and wrapped her arms around his waist, "Thank you."

"I am sorry I ruined it for you," he wrapped his arms around her, a hand making its way to her hair.

She nodded and breathed in deeply. "I know," she nodded.

The walk back was silent for the most part except when Rory spoke about her dad and Lottie and the things they got up to when they passed certain things/places.

"Where do you keep it all?" he asked, lighting a cigarette. "And don't think about starting smoking either."

The blonde let out a small laugh as she made her way to the cupboard and opened it revealing her stash of whiskey. "It's from the Garrison so you can have it back," she told him, passing him some bottles. He gave her a questioning look. "Arthur cant count the bottles properly," she shrugged. "So instead of telling him he can't count, I took advantage and took the ones he'd missed. It's not like he'd miss them, he didn't even know they were there in the first place."

"And the drugs?"

"Stole them from Finn. Well, he gave me some thinking he could monitor me but then I ended up stealing more when I realised it actually helped me."

"Where are they?"

"In dad's coat pocket," she pointed to her dad's coat that was hanging on the rack. He always left that coat there. Tommy begin rummaging through the pockets, talking the blue bottles and putting them in his own pockets and taking them away from her.

"Is there anymore?" he asked.

"No. Isaiah knew all my hiding spots upstairs so I always hid them down here," she explained, watching her uncle sit down across from her.

"No more. From now on, you cry and you remember and you move on. You don't try to numb it or take it away because it never works. It'll always come back, no matter how hard you try to make it stop. It doesn't. The high is temporary," he pointed at her. "You've become so dependent on them that they don't give the same effect as they did before do they?"

"No," she whispered, shaking her head.

"The pain is temporary, Rory. Trust me. It gets easier but you have to let yourself grieve properly alright?"

She nodded.

"Go and sleep off whatever you've taken or drank because you look awful," he pointed to the stairs. "I'll lock the door on my way out."

She stood up and made her way up the stairs, stopping half way and turning to Tommy. "Tom?"

He nodded.

"Does it really get easier?"

"Yes."

That was all she needed to hear before she made her way up the stairs and into her room. The room felt empty without Isaiah's things. The wardrobe looked empty. The whole house felt empty but it was the consequences of her actions and she'd accepted that. But it didn't make it any easier.

She hoped that Tommy was right and it got easier. She knew this wasn't going to be easy but she was willing to forgive Tommy and today was the start.