[ooc; D_M prompt 14; 01] [references to suicide]
She's just tired.
John hates it when she says that; it means something different coming from her. It means she's five steps away from just sitting down and giving up -- again. It means she's itching to run. It means she can't deal with things any more -- it means she's refusing to deal with them. It means she doesn't want to talk and she isn't going to if she can help it. It means something is wrong, horribly wrong, and maybe she doesn't even know what it is.
It means she's hurting and she's hurting too much to want to share it with anyone.
When Donna is tired, things at home start to fall apart. People who rely on her don't quite know what to do when she isn't the pillar of support they're accustomed to. The people who love her don't want to watch her close off, quietly, slowly, until the only conversations she has are arguments that she walks away from too soon. They walk on eggshells until everybody's on edge and ... it just doesn't quite work.
Her father killed himself, a few days ago. After years of being there for him -- of always being the one he could rely on -- Donna left him to his own devices when he needed her the most. After picking up the pieces every time, Donna was tired, too, like him. She was hurting on her own -- and he'd been so good, he'd been so independent, he never told her any more, she didn't know, it wasn't her fault--
He was alone, in the wake of his lover's death, an unwell man off his meds in a house full of guns.
It's just one more thing to blame herself for. One more thing that won't break her because she doesn't think she can be broken any more -- she just gets tired. She just has these moments where everything is just a little too much and she has to walk away -- but she can't, not any more.
Daddy, I'm tired.
She'll be okay.