Post by rhys alexander greyback on May 18, 2024 1:36:56 GMT -7
[googlefont="Roboto"]
[googlefont="Fjalla One"]
[googlefont="Cantarell"]
i am denial, guilt & fear
Rhys raised a glass into the light, gripping the bottom edges so his view was unobstructed. The liquid reflected beautifully against the crystal, as did Rhys’s eyes. He’d quickly lost count of which numbered glass he was on. Two months ago, everything had felt good, almost perfect, but now he wondered how else they could crumble further. Across his table, letters lay half-folded next to stacks of other paperwork: a familiar roll of parchment from Gringotts, documents from his recently retained solicitor, and letters from the Ministry of Magic Law Enforcement department.
He scoffed. His love of a drink or two didn’t sit well with some. Namely the mother of his child. What a ridiculous notion. Rhys did everything he could to be a present father, including avoiding drinking when she was in his custody. But that wasn’t enough, apparently. To top it all off, the letter stated that Rhys was not allowed to see Amelia, but Sage was entitled to a predetermined amount of gold monthly. While Rhys would never withhold financial support for his daughter, it still felt like an affront. Years of backbreaking work, Rhys had done well for himself, but he still felt indignant.
Quickly, he drained the whisky from the glass. Placing it angrily down on the table. The Gringotts letter had left him with a feeling of Déjà vu. Suspension. Another one. Merlin, this was ridiculous. How often had he gotten into some spat after a job in the last year alone, but Merlin forbid the werewolves acted up too close to civilization? The rest of the letter essentially told Rhys his career was at risk if he made himself a liability. Bloody ridiculous if you asked him. He hadn’t survived a decade on the job by being stupid.
Rhys went for the whiskey bottle, drinking from it directly this time. He supposed his legal troubles would eventually have reached the bank’s legal department. That connection had helped Rhys avoid more severe consequences but with a cost that felt high. Mandatory visits to a psychiatrist at St. Mungo’s for anger management or something and whatever their recommendations were to start. The bottle suddenly was empty, and Rhys grunted in frustration. With a hand on the wall above a window, he stared at the empty streets below. It was some early hour in the morning, and he swayed despite standing still. Rhys had been swimming in the bottom of a bottle for most of the day.
How was it everything had appeared to go downhill so quickly? He couldn’t work or see his daughter, and deep down, Rhys knew there were few he could talk to. His willfully stubborn side ignored the hints and comments of his closest friends over the years. The only person he felt like calling was Juni. When such a fire raged in his chest, she could calm him. He always felt better when she was there, but they weren’t together like that anymore. And Rhys remembered his first suspension and her reaction. The frustration boiled hot in his core. It was apparently too much to ask for a bit of sympathy without paying the price of a lecture.
His anger boiled as his breathing sped up until he turned around and leaned on another wall for support. And then he remembered his bottle of whisky was empty. Frustrated, he threw the bottle across the room, not bothering to flinch as glass flew in every direction. If any shrapnel hit him, Rhys didn’t feel it immediately. Rhys let his body drop while his back slid against the wall.
He was too numb to feel anything but self-pity.
[googlefont="Fjalla One"]
[googlefont="Cantarell"]
i am denial, guilt & fear
January 27, 2029
Rhys raised a glass into the light, gripping the bottom edges so his view was unobstructed. The liquid reflected beautifully against the crystal, as did Rhys’s eyes. He’d quickly lost count of which numbered glass he was on. Two months ago, everything had felt good, almost perfect, but now he wondered how else they could crumble further. Across his table, letters lay half-folded next to stacks of other paperwork: a familiar roll of parchment from Gringotts, documents from his recently retained solicitor, and letters from the Ministry of Magic Law Enforcement department.
He scoffed. His love of a drink or two didn’t sit well with some. Namely the mother of his child. What a ridiculous notion. Rhys did everything he could to be a present father, including avoiding drinking when she was in his custody. But that wasn’t enough, apparently. To top it all off, the letter stated that Rhys was not allowed to see Amelia, but Sage was entitled to a predetermined amount of gold monthly. While Rhys would never withhold financial support for his daughter, it still felt like an affront. Years of backbreaking work, Rhys had done well for himself, but he still felt indignant.
Quickly, he drained the whisky from the glass. Placing it angrily down on the table. The Gringotts letter had left him with a feeling of Déjà vu. Suspension. Another one. Merlin, this was ridiculous. How often had he gotten into some spat after a job in the last year alone, but Merlin forbid the werewolves acted up too close to civilization? The rest of the letter essentially told Rhys his career was at risk if he made himself a liability. Bloody ridiculous if you asked him. He hadn’t survived a decade on the job by being stupid.
Rhys went for the whiskey bottle, drinking from it directly this time. He supposed his legal troubles would eventually have reached the bank’s legal department. That connection had helped Rhys avoid more severe consequences but with a cost that felt high. Mandatory visits to a psychiatrist at St. Mungo’s for anger management or something and whatever their recommendations were to start. The bottle suddenly was empty, and Rhys grunted in frustration. With a hand on the wall above a window, he stared at the empty streets below. It was some early hour in the morning, and he swayed despite standing still. Rhys had been swimming in the bottom of a bottle for most of the day.
How was it everything had appeared to go downhill so quickly? He couldn’t work or see his daughter, and deep down, Rhys knew there were few he could talk to. His willfully stubborn side ignored the hints and comments of his closest friends over the years. The only person he felt like calling was Juni. When such a fire raged in his chest, she could calm him. He always felt better when she was there, but they weren’t together like that anymore. And Rhys remembered his first suspension and her reaction. The frustration boiled hot in his core. It was apparently too much to ask for a bit of sympathy without paying the price of a lecture.
His anger boiled as his breathing sped up until he turned around and leaned on another wall for support. And then he remembered his bottle of whisky was empty. Frustrated, he threw the bottle across the room, not bothering to flinch as glass flew in every direction. If any shrapnel hit him, Rhys didn’t feel it immediately. Rhys let his body drop while his back slid against the wall.
He was too numb to feel anything but self-pity.
template by vee
