golden

ten: god help the man

Emotions, much like the sea, had the ability to overtake someone to the point of death. They could be as gentle as a slight wave breaking near the shore, or they could be as violent as a hurricane set to destroy the cities nearby. There were people who could shoulder the burden with ease and grace. Others...Well, others strained to balance the weight of their hearts and were so the ones swept in the currents.

Many emotions were interconnected with each other. Anger was not always truly anger. It came from places of hurt, turmoil, betrayal, sadness, jealousy. Sadness truly never only alone. An imprint of lost happiness, the mourning of something gone or to never be, wrath that didn't quite meet its boiling point. And when they came to a head, the current so strong no swimmer dared to try against it.

None except Elizabeth Dandridge.

From childhood, Elizabeth prided herself on being in complete and utter control of her emotions. She rarely lost her temper. Melancholia never dared to lay a bone-cold finger on her. The sisters of guilt, shame, and regret strayed far from her conscious and heart. Women were often seen as too emotional and driven by the worries of their hearts and she refused to be seen as such. If she was to succeed, she needed to be level-headed and appear that way at all times.

Elizabeth, now, however, was not so successful with that endeavor. For the hours after his enraged departure, Harry's words had churned through her and pulsed in her mind, a never-ending mantra she could not rid herself of.

God, your entire life is a lie, isn't it?

So, I've just ruined it all for you, then?

You refuse yourself any kind of real happiness and taste for life.

You've buried your heart long enough that you killed it.

Rampant pacing. The darkness of those once emerald eyes. Face flushed in anguish and wrath. She had never seen a heart in the midst of breaking, only ever acted it on screen. Was his the face of that hellish fate? Harry in pain, Harry hurting.

His heartbreak. Her heartbreak.

She wished they had never met. She wished their eyes had never locked that night and he had never charmed her into a lunch outing. She wished he didn't take her for a picnic on the beach or play guitar for her or know the intrinsic details of her matters so well.

She wished she had no morality clause.

She wished he had kissed her. Or, perhaps, she had kissed him.

"God fucking damn it!"

The silver-backed hairbrush clattered against the vanity mirror. Upon impact, the glass shattered out and she turned her face.

Was this heartbreak? No script had ever warned her of it. Only prepared her for forlorn gazes and trembling lips, impeccably shed tears. The screenwriters never told her that it would swallow her whole. Miserable sorrow clawing away at her from the inside, fighting its way out in the form of dry heaves and burning eyes. She suffocated on it. Even those dreadful sisters had their way with her. Ashamed of hiding the truth. Guilty of lying to a person who didn't deserve it. Regretful of not sharing her own feelings.

She mourned his absence and wished for his arrival. Three sharp knocks on the bumblebee. An orchid for apology in hand. That glowing smile to ease a sea of troubles. So badly did she want to see him, but she refused to be the first to make the move. Even though she had lied, he was the one who said such nasty things.

If she were to apologize, would he forgive her? Where would they even go from there? There could be no friendship, not as it had been. Any hope of anything further lay four years away and she would never ask such a thing of him.