But: I remember the stars that night. They were like salt against the sky, like someone spilled the shaker against very dark cloth.

In Part One, when Charlie first arrives in rehab, she struggles to remember how or when she got there. She can capture only flashes of visual or auditory experiences, but she can’t put them together into a coherent narrative. One thing she remembers clearly is the night sky stretching out above her. The stars give her a feeling of endlessness, so she feels at one with the universe and infinity. At that moment, the feeling is an exuberant sort of despair, the euphoria that results ironically from a near-death state. In that moment, she sees the spectacle as spilled salt, an omen of bad luck. Charlie’s luck has been very bad indeed, and she will need quite a lot of work to recover.

What I don’t write is: I’m so lonely in the world I want to peel all of my flesh off and walk, just bone and gristle, straight into the river, to be swallowed, just like my father.

In rehab in Part One, Charlie is mute, unable to communicate her experiences or her trauma with Casper or the other girls. Recognizing this, Casper tries to get Charlie to write instead of talking, but that doesn’t work much better. The problem is not that Charlie can’t look someone in the eye and share. The problem is that Charlie can’t confront what has happened sufficiently to put it into words, so inevitably what she writes is not what she means. Instead, it’s a bland description of cool moss in the woods that serves as a dim reflection of her actual feelings, which are hard and complicated. She has a stark, despairing vision of herself, her place in the world, and her relationship to those closest to her. It will take much more than a few weeks in rehab to soothe these feelings.

I cut because I can’t deal. It’s as simple as that. The world becomes an ocean, the ocean washes over me, the sound of water is deafening, the water drowns my heart, my panic becomes as large as planets. I need release, I need to hurt myself more than the world can hurt me, and then I can comfort myself.

In Part One, as Vinnie removes Charlie’s bandages, she tries to explain to herself why she engages in such self-destructive behavior. She says that it’s simple, but it isn’t. An overwhelming world of pain is certainly understandable. People die, and the ones they leave behind grieve. Charlie’s situation is far more complicated than that, given that she has lost so many people at such a young age and in such tragic fashion. She has also been subject to physical violence and sexual molestation. Panic is a realistic reaction to life as she knows it. But as she is also aware, her self-destructive reaction complicates the situation by introducing more pain and suffering into an already horrific existence.

She raises her hands and traces the shape of my body in the air. When her fingers reach my boots, she says: 

 

You own all of yourself, Charlie. Every last bit.

In Part One, Casper talks to Charlie before she leaves the center. Because Charlie’s family is poor, she can’t stay in rehab, so Casper cannot help her for more than a few weeks. She knows it is far too little time to make a difference. So before Charlie leaves for good, Casper tries to give her some parting words of advice. Much as Felix will do toward the novel’s end, Casper reminds Charlie that she owns her own body. But coming from Casper, the implication is that she bears responsibility for protecting herself from herself. Casper’s advice sits on Charlie’s shoulders like yet another burden, adding to the loved ones she has lost and the dangers she has barely survived. Now, in addition to all of that, she must also take care of herself.

Everyone has that moment [...] when something so…momentous happens that it rips your very being into small pieces. And then you have to stop. For a long time, you gather your pieces. And it takes such a very long time, not to fit them back together, but to assemble them in a new way...

In Part Three, Felix tries to help Charlie understand what has happened to her without forcing her to speak. He explains that she has endured cosmic shifts in her very being that have broken her apart. The result is a shattered self that cannot be reassembled. Instead, it must be rebuilt entirely. That process will not be quick. It will take time. In the meantime, Charlie must find a way to live with herself as she is, shattered and broken. She will be imperfect, perhaps for a long time. But life can be long, and she has time. Felix gives Charlie this gift, the awareness that with time and patience she can reassemble herself.