forced | d.m.

10.whisky

February '01 | H E R

So... it's been a month.

Althea is still processing, sort of.

I guess at this point you can call it failing to process.

She has given up, officially. How much else can she do when he says he regrets the whole thing? After all the work she put in. All the attempt on conversation. Of taking care of him when he was being stupidly impulsive. Of trying to make him feel less alone. Of staying reserved and polite. Of all the fake smiles and giving him what he needed.

He still found something to hate.

She still wasn't good enough.

Althea has considered being impassive.

What does it matter that he doesn't give her attention? Care? Admiration? That he is not willing to put some work into this relationship?

But she experiences the strange, stupid, goddamn phenomenon of not being able to.

And it sucks. It sucks so bad.

He does give those little moments. He contradicts his own words, then relapses each time, but she finds solace in the good moments. Like him comforting her. Holding her hand at night. Telling her he only ever cared about her.

Then he says shit like Everyday, I regret marrying you.

When she silently begged for a piece of his mind, this is not what she meant. But it's the truth. He means it from the depths of his core—the look in his eyes... it was the same as on their wedding day—and ever since, Althea finds it hard to step into bed. To exist near him. To exist at all.

Everday, I regret marrying you.

So what does that make me? How am I to deal with this? How do I deal with this nasty piece of information?

There is nothing to do. Life continues and to see it from the bright side—she finally knows where she's standing. Publicly, they are a great fit. Personally? Well, it was never meant to be, as poets would put it.

They live seperate lives under the same roof. Drown in the silence that seems so much heavier now. Althea doesn't believe she has exchanged a real word with him since.

She spends her days meeting up with friends, but it honestly feels like she's not there. As though suspended in time and space. Bonnie and Dean move on with their lives while hers took a major step back.

And then there are the plenty dinners with the Cullen's or Malfoy's. At the last one yesterday, Althea was about to stuff a bread roll in Wanda's mouth for bringing the baby topic up. It basically hangs out of her ears, it makes her pulse race and hands ball to fists.

When her father would ask in privacy how things are going, she would say It's going great. when she would actually yearn to fall into his shoulder and weep like she did as a small kid having scratched her knee.

Crazy how fast you can learn to hide your stuff. Althea used to be so in tune with her feelings.

Everyday, I regret marrying you.

It makes sense all of sudden, why he would never wake her when he had nightmares. Why he would never be able to look her in the eyes. Why he would never be able to enjoy himself, just once. Why he humiliated her so easily.

Everyday, I regret marrying you.

The sentence plays in her head, day after day. It ruined books. Canvases turned dark. Filled her gut with unease. There are days where she feels hollow and numb and others where she feels everything at once.