Bi-weekly prompt response: Peter McWilliams quote
Guilt is anger directed at ourselves--at what we did or did not do. - Peter McWilliams
Who: Tonks
What: Guilt is anger directed at ourselves--at what we did or did not do. - Peter McWilliams
Where: Home and around
When: Now, in grownhp6words timeline after this.
Why: Because the words we hear haunt us.
It was raining when she woke up, sore and disoriented. She'd pushed herself too far, swam up to her consciousness. That's why so sore. But the rain, hard and cold attracted her attention more than that.
After her conversation with Remus (was it classified as a fight? She didn't want to fight him. But if he kept holding everything in... I'll really lose him. Forever. Her mind recoiled at the thought and she felt the sting of tears again Not now, please, not here, not where anyone can see me or hear me...) she'd written Maisie and then gotten home somehow, giving the children brief but strong hugs (Maise...) and they'd known she was very tired, so no questions were asked of her (she did ask questions about their days, and they did answer, bless them), she let herself get into a bed. Any bed, she wasn't sure she'd reached their bedroom - a look around let her know she hadn't.
She'd not mustered up enough strength to tell them Maisie had gone away. She felt bad about that now, but the words just hadn't come out. In the morning...
It was dark outside, the rain beating against the window the only sound in the house. She rose, still with yesterday's clothes, and went to check on the twins, and Harry Al. Sleeping peacefully.
Cursing herself for her cowardice, she didn't dare check their bedroom. If Remus had chosen to stay away... she didn't want to know. Not yet. His words and Maisie's kept spinning in her head till she was dizzy. Till the whole lovely house felt too close. Felt wrong.
Walking quietly down the stairs wasn't too easy, but she managed it, and then she wrapped herself in a cloak and walked out of the door. No broom. No apparitions. She just walked up the hill to the woods there, and walked in, and in. She didn't run. She just let the rain and the cold make her body shiver the way her mind felt to be, the entire time.
Do you want me to go after her? Do you want me to be angry? Devastated? Tell me Dora, I promise I will comply. I do so all the time, so just TELL ME.
I promise I will comply. I do so all the time, so just TELL ME.
I do so all the time...
Now the tears were flowing. Hard and fast, hidden in the outpour. She was sobbing as she walked on and on.
How could she make him see that he didn't need to pretend? That he shouldn't pretend, that pretending only made things dig deeper and hurt more? That he didn't HAVE to pretend with her, that she could handle what he gave her? She could handle him walking out as he had from that classroom; staying away as long as he needed (well, eventually); she could handle the secrecy (so long as it was only HER who got hurt by it).
She'd failed. She'd accepted every single thing he'd dealt her. She'd believed what he told her unless she knew otherwise. She'd accepted who he was and that there were always going to be places she couldn't follow, and she wouldn't try to, because.
And it hadn't been enough. Not good enough for him to be able to bloody tell her what was going on.
She reached a clearing and looked up at the sky, her face contorted with the crying, with the pain. That she had failed him, that she wasn't what he needed. Nor what Maisie needed. That ... her loyalty was wrong. Wasn't enough. Was not needed. Was rejected.
The rain washed over her eyes, her grimaced mouth, and the wind whipped at her wet, uninteresting hair.
There was a flash of lightning, and in the sound of the thunder, the words finally came out.
TELL ME.
"WHAT DID I DO WRONG?"
Who: Tonks
What: Guilt is anger directed at ourselves--at what we did or did not do. - Peter McWilliams
Where: Home and around
When: Now, in grownhp6words timeline after this.
Why: Because the words we hear haunt us.
It was raining when she woke up, sore and disoriented. She'd pushed herself too far, swam up to her consciousness. That's why so sore. But the rain, hard and cold attracted her attention more than that.
After her conversation with Remus (was it classified as a fight? She didn't want to fight him. But if he kept holding everything in... I'll really lose him. Forever. Her mind recoiled at the thought and she felt the sting of tears again Not now, please, not here, not where anyone can see me or hear me...) she'd written Maisie and then gotten home somehow, giving the children brief but strong hugs (Maise...) and they'd known she was very tired, so no questions were asked of her (she did ask questions about their days, and they did answer, bless them), she let herself get into a bed. Any bed, she wasn't sure she'd reached their bedroom - a look around let her know she hadn't.
She'd not mustered up enough strength to tell them Maisie had gone away. She felt bad about that now, but the words just hadn't come out. In the morning...
It was dark outside, the rain beating against the window the only sound in the house. She rose, still with yesterday's clothes, and went to check on the twins, and Harry Al. Sleeping peacefully.
Cursing herself for her cowardice, she didn't dare check their bedroom. If Remus had chosen to stay away... she didn't want to know. Not yet. His words and Maisie's kept spinning in her head till she was dizzy. Till the whole lovely house felt too close. Felt wrong.
Walking quietly down the stairs wasn't too easy, but she managed it, and then she wrapped herself in a cloak and walked out of the door. No broom. No apparitions. She just walked up the hill to the woods there, and walked in, and in. She didn't run. She just let the rain and the cold make her body shiver the way her mind felt to be, the entire time.
Do you want me to go after her? Do you want me to be angry? Devastated? Tell me Dora, I promise I will comply. I do so all the time, so just TELL ME.
I promise I will comply. I do so all the time, so just TELL ME.
I do so all the time...
Now the tears were flowing. Hard and fast, hidden in the outpour. She was sobbing as she walked on and on.
How could she make him see that he didn't need to pretend? That he shouldn't pretend, that pretending only made things dig deeper and hurt more? That he didn't HAVE to pretend with her, that she could handle what he gave her? She could handle him walking out as he had from that classroom; staying away as long as he needed (well, eventually); she could handle the secrecy (so long as it was only HER who got hurt by it).
She'd failed. She'd accepted every single thing he'd dealt her. She'd believed what he told her unless she knew otherwise. She'd accepted who he was and that there were always going to be places she couldn't follow, and she wouldn't try to, because.
And it hadn't been enough. Not good enough for him to be able to bloody tell her what was going on.
She reached a clearing and looked up at the sky, her face contorted with the crying, with the pain. That she had failed him, that she wasn't what he needed. Nor what Maisie needed. That ... her loyalty was wrong. Wasn't enough. Was not needed. Was rejected.
The rain washed over her eyes, her grimaced mouth, and the wind whipped at her wet, uninteresting hair.
There was a flash of lightning, and in the sound of the thunder, the words finally came out.
TELL ME.
"WHAT DID I DO WRONG?"