Furrowing his brows at her words, his lip pursed, Saxon let out a big huff. He wasn’t going to listen to this. She didn’t know what she was talking about. You don’t always see ghosts, that would be silly. Saxon knew that.
“But not always,” Saxon mumbled under his breath before stepping toward his sister, a tear moving down his reddened cheek, “And it isn’t nonsense…!” Saxon’s voice almost rose – he could feel himself getting annoyed again.
Perhaps deep down he knew their father wasn’t a ghost. But that wasn’t the point, was it? If he was to admit that, it would be admitting that his father was gone and had been replaced by the horrible man that mother had decided to settle with and it would be admitting that she was willing to bring them all back to the place that took their family away. Every time he went around Hogsmeade, all he could think about was when his mother told him that their father had died. Here. For all he knew, it could have been in this house and Saxon did not want to – no, he refused to – accept that fact.
He did not want to accept that his father was dead. So maybe he did know their dad was gone and it was silly for him to be a ghost but he wasn’t going to stop. It made him feel better. And maybe, just maybe, if he thought hard enough his dad would return as a ghost.
But as Saxon stood there and saw the pain in his sister’s expression and he reflected on the hurt in her voice, he knew he should have felt bad but he didn’t. He felt… frustrated. He felt like nobody would listen to him and as he thought more on her words and how she – and the rest of the family – spoke to him (sometimes, not all the time), it made him less frustrated for not being listened to but angry. Livid.
Just go away Saxon
But he didn’t want to.
This was his house too and why wouldn’t she just listen to him and let him have his little story about their dad? It helped him.
Exhaling harshly, Saxon approached his sister and pushed her backward, “No, you go away. I was in here first! And I don’t care if you don’t believe me!” He hissed.
What came next out of his mouth, he didn’t want to say. It just sort of… came out. Something he thought he’d likely regret.
“And yes you all have forgotten about him! You never talk about him, you never think about him… You probably don’t even love him anymore. At least I still talk to him and actually want him here!”
By this point, Saxon was less than a few centimetres from his older sister and his breathing was heavy; spit was forming at the corners of his mouth.
“But not always,” Saxon mumbled under his breath before stepping toward his sister, a tear moving down his reddened cheek, “And it isn’t nonsense…!” Saxon’s voice almost rose – he could feel himself getting annoyed again.
Perhaps deep down he knew their father wasn’t a ghost. But that wasn’t the point, was it? If he was to admit that, it would be admitting that his father was gone and had been replaced by the horrible man that mother had decided to settle with and it would be admitting that she was willing to bring them all back to the place that took their family away. Every time he went around Hogsmeade, all he could think about was when his mother told him that their father had died. Here. For all he knew, it could have been in this house and Saxon did not want to – no, he refused to – accept that fact.
He did not want to accept that his father was dead. So maybe he did know their dad was gone and it was silly for him to be a ghost but he wasn’t going to stop. It made him feel better. And maybe, just maybe, if he thought hard enough his dad would return as a ghost.
But as Saxon stood there and saw the pain in his sister’s expression and he reflected on the hurt in her voice, he knew he should have felt bad but he didn’t. He felt… frustrated. He felt like nobody would listen to him and as he thought more on her words and how she – and the rest of the family – spoke to him (sometimes, not all the time), it made him less frustrated for not being listened to but angry. Livid.
Just go away Saxon
But he didn’t want to.
This was his house too and why wouldn’t she just listen to him and let him have his little story about their dad? It helped him.
Exhaling harshly, Saxon approached his sister and pushed her backward, “No, you go away. I was in here first! And I don’t care if you don’t believe me!” He hissed.
What came next out of his mouth, he didn’t want to say. It just sort of… came out. Something he thought he’d likely regret.
“And yes you all have forgotten about him! You never talk about him, you never think about him… You probably don’t even love him anymore. At least I still talk to him and actually want him here!”
By this point, Saxon was less than a few centimetres from his older sister and his breathing was heavy; spit was forming at the corners of his mouth.