The Tide Between Us

Moving from one home to another is something I never wanted to do.

I feel like I'm part of the ocean somewhere. I always end up in a different place because that's where the tide takes me. I've been in and out of the foster care system since I was 11, then I lived with my grandparents. My grandma died, so then I went and lived back with my parents, and I have ever since—well, until now.

You see, my uncle has been trying to get custody of me since I was 8, because he deems his no-good-of-a-brother a bad father, my mother even more unstable, and he's not wrong. Now that I'm 17, he finally won rights in the case when I tried to kill myself.

I won't put it lightly—I've been self-harming since I was 13, stopped when I lived with my new foster parents when I was 14, and then started again.

But then—

Now I am on the train, going to start my new life with my uncle, which I am dreading. I didn't want to move, but I wanted to get away. I'm not sad about leaving my family; I'm sad about leaving my friends, the only people who supported me. My best friend Frankie isn't talking to me at the moment because he was the one who found me.

I wouldn't talk to me if I was in his position.

It's not just two or three hours away by train—it's five. It's shorter by car, only taking about three or four hours depending on traffic. It feels like I left the life I worked so hard to build behind, but I know it's for the better.

My parents can't hurt me anymore either. Thank God for that.

A small child plonks herself down on the seat next to mine and now I regret not putting my bag there. She's got blonde curly hair and a smile that could light up the dark night sky.

"Sorry." A woman, I assume is the little girl's mother since they look exactly the same. I nod, and she smiles at me.

She's juggling a million and one things, as well as being on a phone call.

"Do you want to sit here?" I stupidly say. I have another hour until I get to my stop.

"Oh no, don't worry." She wafts her hand, and I look at the person in the two-seater across who had their bag on the chair.

"Excuse me?" I speak up, and the random girl with headphones takes them off.

"Yes?" She says harshly.

"Why don't you take your bag off the chair so someone can sit down?" I suggest, raising my eyebrows slightly.

She scoffs and pulls her bag off the chair.

Right, I know I said I regret not putting my bag on the chair, but I would have moved it.

The woman thanks me, sitting down next to headphone girl and putting the grocery bags down in front of her, pulling her phone up to her ear properly.

"What's your name?" The little girl says in a very sweet tone of voice, looking up at me.

"Riven. What's yours?" My parents gave me the name Riven; I don't know why. Mom told me it's because they met at a river before their marriage fell apart and also it means split. Don't know where that comes into it, but I was just told that one day.

"Penny." The girl shines up at me, and I smile at her. She looks at my arms and points at the long scar on my right arm, the purple mess reminding me every day of the life I failed to take. "What happened?" She touches the scar very gently. The scar is still sore and healing, but she touches it with so much care it doesn't hurt. I took my jumper off because I was hot.

The mother, who's now off the phone, calls Penny's name and shakes her head. "We don't ask questions like that, do we darling?" she says in a firm but soft voice and then looks at me. "I'm so sorry." She apologizes, and I laugh quietly.