Most of what had been coursing through her veins that night had just been frustration, pure and unfiltered. It'd had to come out one way or another, and letting fists fly had seemed like the only option. Because talking... talking wouldn't have worked.
But she'd be lying if she tried to claim that part of it hadn't also been a petty little bit of revenge on herself for letting that chance slip away. Heather had always been a vengeful person, after all. Her anger was characterized by bloodthirstiness, and when that anger was directed at herself... well, let's just say she doesn't believe in exceptions.
But she nods.
"I was. Still am."
And not a day went by that she didn't hug her father, tell him she loved him, or even just sit there with him quietly while he jotted down his never-ending story ideas and musings. Whatever happened, she was NOT making the same mistakes she'd made before. Never, ever again.
But that wasn't the point of this story.
So when she looks up, she fixes Cooper with a piercing stare.
"But the fact is, if I hadn't bottled it all up... if I'd actually told people what was happening, asked them for help... I wouldn'tve been left high and dry that night. I would've been able to go to somebody before I turned my hands into ground hamburger. ... I did go to someone, for the record, but it was still a little too fucking late."
As usual... although choking her troubles out to Phoenix that night had been the best thing she could have done.
"But I didn't, and even though I needed somebody, the thought of having to explain the entire story before I could even start to answer the question of 'So why are you so messed-up right now?' was just so mortifying I couldn't do it. Because I didn't go to anybody for help, for months. Just ignored everything, and brushed it off as me dealing with it on my own and not burdening other people with my truckloads of emotional baggage, and by the time I realized I was up the creek without a paddle, I was too far from shore to yell for help."
And there you have it, Cooper.
There's her lesson.
She folds her arms over her knees again, resting her head on them broodingly. Even remembering that night conjures up the same bitter feelings that had led her to take out her frustrations on a brick wall. Her tone is appropriately sardonic.
"And that was the day I learned I wasn't a special snowflake who didn't need to open up to anybody."
no subject
Most of what had been coursing through her veins that night had just been frustration, pure and unfiltered. It'd had to come out one way or another, and letting fists fly had seemed like the only option. Because talking... talking wouldn't have worked.
But she'd be lying if she tried to claim that part of it hadn't also been a petty little bit of revenge on herself for letting that chance slip away. Heather had always been a vengeful person, after all. Her anger was characterized by bloodthirstiness, and when that anger was directed at herself... well, let's just say she doesn't believe in exceptions.
But she nods.
"I was. Still am."
And not a day went by that she didn't hug her father, tell him she loved him, or even just sit there with him quietly while he jotted down his never-ending story ideas and musings. Whatever happened, she was NOT making the same mistakes she'd made before. Never, ever again.
But that wasn't the point of this story.
So when she looks up, she fixes Cooper with a piercing stare.
"But the fact is, if I hadn't bottled it all up... if I'd actually told people what was happening, asked them for help... I wouldn'tve been left high and dry that night. I would've been able to go to somebody before I turned my hands into ground hamburger. ... I did go to someone, for the record, but it was still a little too fucking late."
As usual... although choking her troubles out to Phoenix that night had been the best thing she could have done.
"But I didn't, and even though I needed somebody, the thought of having to explain the entire story before I could even start to answer the question of 'So why are you so messed-up right now?' was just so mortifying I couldn't do it. Because I didn't go to anybody for help, for months. Just ignored everything, and brushed it off as me dealing with it on my own and not burdening other people with my truckloads of emotional baggage, and by the time I realized I was up the creek without a paddle, I was too far from shore to yell for help."
And there you have it, Cooper.
There's her lesson.
She folds her arms over her knees again, resting her head on them broodingly. Even remembering that night conjures up the same bitter feelings that had led her to take out her frustrations on a brick wall. Her tone is appropriately sardonic.
"And that was the day I learned I wasn't a special snowflake who didn't need to open up to anybody."