Post by Deleted on Apr 12, 2020 2:25:43 GMT -7
CWs: Depression, death of a parent, suicide, self harm, self destructive behaviour, self blame and guilt, substance abuse.
It was difficult, to say the least. He had wrapped one arm around his sister while she cried into his shoulder. His father was broken and his brother wasn't off much better. Between the four of them, nothing but the sound of tears broke the absolute silence. Gus didn't want to be there, but he couldn't leave. He was frozen in place, staring at the patch of turned earth. He shot one look at his brother and between the two of them, there passed an understanding. Amaury quickly walked over and took poor Alix from Gus' shoulder, wrapping her up tightly. Their father barely reacted. He hadn't moved since the casket had been lowered into the ground. Still Gus knew better than to attempt to change it. Nobody had accepted the fact that they lost her yet.
They lost her.
They had failed her. For years they all knew she'd been struggling with suicidal thoughts, with a depression that was consuming her. They thought they did enough, that they did all they could to have her hold on to life.
They failed her.
The most insane thing was that somewhere in France in a castle, people were having a good time, probably eating lunch or going to classes while the dead silence of the graveyard in le Mans filled his very being. The quiet solitude hammered his brain and made him dizzy. They would be all right, all of them. Amaury, Alix, Gregory. It wasn't far from the family home. A large house with all it's splendour and beauty. They'd have to go back to school eventually, him and his sister. For now everything just seemed alien. He turned his back, feeling the eyes of his brother in his back. Alix and Amaury took after their father. He took after their mother.
Maybe he was too much like her. What meaning would life have? He'd never connected to his father, and no matter how much he loved his siblings they wouldn't replace their mother. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard her carefree laughter as he strummed his guitar, singing a silly song to cheer her up. It was the last time he remembered her laughing in a way that wasn't forced. It had been over a year ago. Ever since him and Alix had gone off to Beauxbatons nothing had been right. He had begged both his parents not to go, to be homeschooled. He felt personally responsible for the happiness of his mother and was still far too young to understand that her mental health couldn't have been changed by her.
His steps felt hollow as the fell on the grass, on the pebbles and eventually on the asphalt road into the town they called home. His feet knew where to carry him and after forever and a moment he walked into the empty house, the silence striking him. He felt tears well up in his eyes as the emptiness of his existence washed over him. He fell on his knees, crying fully for the first time that day. He sat there for what felt like an eternity before he finally calmed down enough. He took a deep breath and looked around the room. There she stood, the guitar his father had bought him, the one he'd played for his mother. He felt a sudden surge of rage well up deep inside himself. He promptly got up and grabbed the guitar angrily, going to his room.
He closed the door, opened the window and screamed as he struck the guitar against the wall in full force. It hadn't been enough! He wasn't good enough! He should have saved her! He threw the carcass of the guitar on the ground and pounded at it with his fist, feeling the splinters bite at his hands and the warm and wet sensation of the blood trickling over his hands. The screams must have echoed as it took only moments before a vague clawing was to be heard outside his door. Scraped out of his torn up rage, he barely stumbled toward the door, opening it only long enough for little Phillipe to walk in before he closed it again. The cub crawled up against his legs, attempting to comfort the solemn boy as he vaguely attempting to put the pieces of his guitar back together.
Absently he petted Phillipe, as he fished his cigarettes out of his pockets with his other hand. He lit a smoke, allowing the nicotine to calm him down. If his father knew he'd been stealing smokes he'd be furious, if he'd be in his right mind enough to punish him. Not today, as he knew his father had lost the woman he loved most. People didn't simply get over that. He leaned against his bed dejected as Phillipe crawled on his lap, purring slightly. He'd grown since Gus had stolen him from the circus but he seemed to be doing well. He licked the hand of his friend as Gus finished smoking, eventually letting the butt drop of the floor, scorching a small hole in the carpet on the floor before it fizzled out. He took his wand out of his pocket, more than aware using magic was illegal but he was born to magic, so they expected his father to keep him in check. That wasn't happening today.
With a lazy flick of his wand, the guitar repaired itself. He wrapped his hands on an old t-shirt and burried his face in Phillipe's fur, squeezing the small tiger gently. Tears once again flooded from his eyes, but it was more quiet this time. Gus cried, even as he heard the sounds of the family arriving back at the house. He pulled his face back slightly and muttered against the softness of the dearest friend he had left.
"Oh Phil.... Why couldn't I save her?"
It was difficult, to say the least. He had wrapped one arm around his sister while she cried into his shoulder. His father was broken and his brother wasn't off much better. Between the four of them, nothing but the sound of tears broke the absolute silence. Gus didn't want to be there, but he couldn't leave. He was frozen in place, staring at the patch of turned earth. He shot one look at his brother and between the two of them, there passed an understanding. Amaury quickly walked over and took poor Alix from Gus' shoulder, wrapping her up tightly. Their father barely reacted. He hadn't moved since the casket had been lowered into the ground. Still Gus knew better than to attempt to change it. Nobody had accepted the fact that they lost her yet.
They lost her.
They had failed her. For years they all knew she'd been struggling with suicidal thoughts, with a depression that was consuming her. They thought they did enough, that they did all they could to have her hold on to life.
They failed her.
The most insane thing was that somewhere in France in a castle, people were having a good time, probably eating lunch or going to classes while the dead silence of the graveyard in le Mans filled his very being. The quiet solitude hammered his brain and made him dizzy. They would be all right, all of them. Amaury, Alix, Gregory. It wasn't far from the family home. A large house with all it's splendour and beauty. They'd have to go back to school eventually, him and his sister. For now everything just seemed alien. He turned his back, feeling the eyes of his brother in his back. Alix and Amaury took after their father. He took after their mother.
Maybe he was too much like her. What meaning would life have? He'd never connected to his father, and no matter how much he loved his siblings they wouldn't replace their mother. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard her carefree laughter as he strummed his guitar, singing a silly song to cheer her up. It was the last time he remembered her laughing in a way that wasn't forced. It had been over a year ago. Ever since him and Alix had gone off to Beauxbatons nothing had been right. He had begged both his parents not to go, to be homeschooled. He felt personally responsible for the happiness of his mother and was still far too young to understand that her mental health couldn't have been changed by her.
His steps felt hollow as the fell on the grass, on the pebbles and eventually on the asphalt road into the town they called home. His feet knew where to carry him and after forever and a moment he walked into the empty house, the silence striking him. He felt tears well up in his eyes as the emptiness of his existence washed over him. He fell on his knees, crying fully for the first time that day. He sat there for what felt like an eternity before he finally calmed down enough. He took a deep breath and looked around the room. There she stood, the guitar his father had bought him, the one he'd played for his mother. He felt a sudden surge of rage well up deep inside himself. He promptly got up and grabbed the guitar angrily, going to his room.
He closed the door, opened the window and screamed as he struck the guitar against the wall in full force. It hadn't been enough! He wasn't good enough! He should have saved her! He threw the carcass of the guitar on the ground and pounded at it with his fist, feeling the splinters bite at his hands and the warm and wet sensation of the blood trickling over his hands. The screams must have echoed as it took only moments before a vague clawing was to be heard outside his door. Scraped out of his torn up rage, he barely stumbled toward the door, opening it only long enough for little Phillipe to walk in before he closed it again. The cub crawled up against his legs, attempting to comfort the solemn boy as he vaguely attempting to put the pieces of his guitar back together.
Absently he petted Phillipe, as he fished his cigarettes out of his pockets with his other hand. He lit a smoke, allowing the nicotine to calm him down. If his father knew he'd been stealing smokes he'd be furious, if he'd be in his right mind enough to punish him. Not today, as he knew his father had lost the woman he loved most. People didn't simply get over that. He leaned against his bed dejected as Phillipe crawled on his lap, purring slightly. He'd grown since Gus had stolen him from the circus but he seemed to be doing well. He licked the hand of his friend as Gus finished smoking, eventually letting the butt drop of the floor, scorching a small hole in the carpet on the floor before it fizzled out. He took his wand out of his pocket, more than aware using magic was illegal but he was born to magic, so they expected his father to keep him in check. That wasn't happening today.
With a lazy flick of his wand, the guitar repaired itself. He wrapped his hands on an old t-shirt and burried his face in Phillipe's fur, squeezing the small tiger gently. Tears once again flooded from his eyes, but it was more quiet this time. Gus cried, even as he heard the sounds of the family arriving back at the house. He pulled his face back slightly and muttered against the softness of the dearest friend he had left.
"Oh Phil.... Why couldn't I save her?"
