Post by Deleted on Feb 12, 2017 13:01:52 GMT -7
he shouldn't care. the world would forgive him if he didn't care about the two people that made his and his siblings lives what could be close to living hell while they had been alive. the world would understand. what he couldn't understand is why he didn't feel that way. his father's death had been a shock enough, his mother had killed him. that wasn't all that surprising and if he was being honest with himself he had been expecting one of them to kill each other for most of his life. since he'd been old enough to see the hate that was between them. but the news of his mothers death? it was too much. he hated them. he hated what they had done and now they were dead, his hate was wasted. while they had been alive it had been easy. he could blame them. he did blame them. they had raised him in a way that had almost ruined his life and he had clawed his way out of it by using the hate that he had for the two of them and they were both gone now. he hated them for doing it to river. river, who had been trying, for some god forsaken reason, to have some sort of relationship with their father but that chance had now been stolen from him. his mother, in one of her last acts of cruelty had stripped her son of any chance of a father. it made him even angrier. he dragged his hands through his hair as he walked toward the once place he knew he wouldn't be judged for how he was feeling now. magi would never judge him. she was his best friend and she had been for years now. he trusted her enough to let her see. it was past midnight, he knew that much. he'd been pacing the floor of his room at the cauldron before he had needed to get out. he hadn't put on any other clothes than the jeans, shirt and sneakers he had been wearing. the cold chill in the air, he didn't feel it as he walked through the night. he made his way up to the door and without thinking, not able to think that it was probably the last thing they wanted, to have him knocking on the door in the middle of the night. the next thing he knew his fist was pounding against the wooden door, a quick rhythm as he knocked his fist against the wood.