#I tried passively defending the said cousin and just moving on before it made him feel any awful

[someprettyname]

that moment you realise that your favourite [maternal] uncle is indeed not cool and an abusive parent as well :

unimpressed staring

[reddogcollar]

Oh.

In italics.

Allusion to self harm.

First/Prev/Next

Drew left the Great Oak at midday, feeling more frustrated than last night.

It had taken the entire morning for Bergan and Gretchen to work something out, and they'd started the moment the sun lit the sky.

At the moment, everyone he happened to encounter was talking about Wyld Wolves, and whether the threat was really neutralized, or whether the festival had been cancelled entirely, or whether there were enough Green Capes in the city to defend them, or something else trivial.

It took everything not to snap at everyone who spoke to him, including Gretchen, Bergan, and especially Trent.

He knew everyone had their reasons, the townsfolk were still nervous after the Wyldermen invasion, the soldiers were being strained to make everyone feel safe, and they all needed something that'd get their minds off it.

And it was his job to reassure them all that everything was fine.

But he could only hear the same worries for so long without glaring at whoever he was talking to.

So at the moment he was trying to get away from everyone.

Walking through alleys and behind houses, where he was less likely to run into anyone else, he ended up skirting the walls separating them from the forest.

If he were to leave the city all together, he'd certainly be left alone.

Though, he may also have to explain himself, or run into a patrolling Greencloak, and he didn't want to have to tell anyone they'd been annoying him all day.

He may cross the path of a, or several, Wylderman, and while he did feel like hitting something, he could just as well hit the wall.

He didn't hit the wall.

A part of his job was people being too paranoid and him having to deal with it whenever he talked with them. And he'd need to get used to that.

He wasn't a man of the people. They rallied around him when they needed to, and they'd fought a war in his name, but he wasn't a man of the people.

He didn't enjoy cities or organizing groups or politics.

The life he'd anticipated was a quiet one on the Coast. With livestock, crops, and a minimum of worries beyond the weather.

He'd made the choice to give that up.

So he needed to get used to being a man of the people.

He kept walking.

In the entire city, besides himself, there were four people who weren't worried about a nonexistent threat. Out of those four, there was only one he wasn't frustrated with.

He needed to see Hector anyways, after missing last night.

Still keeping himself out of the crowd, he made his way to the Garrison Tree.

It wasn't hard. The Garrison Tree had been set aside from everything that was more busy, and for everyday life. It'd probably be a bit grim to have a jail in the middle of the market.

Inside, he climbed the stairs till he came to the guard.

With every bit of passive assertiveness they'd been trained in, the guard did not let him pass.

"The Duke's orders, sir." They said, standing stiff in front of the door.

"I'm aware of the Duke's orders. And I can assure you you'll be in no trouble if you let me pass." He said, his voice coming out flat.

Any intonation would probably lead to him snapping and someone who was just doing their job.

"I don't recall the order to not let anyone see him being rolled back, sir." The Greencloak said, their eye contact wavering, unsure.

Drew stared at them for a moment. It'd be easy to lie, and would come at no cost to the guard, if he could help it.

"Well, it did. Don't let this happen again."

The soldier hesitated, before nodding and unlocking the door with an apology.

The door creaked open, and he slipped inside, nodding at the Greencloak. Hector didn't seem to notice.

Drew took a seat, and before anything else, noticed the off-white cloth wrapped around Hector's hand.

"Are you alright?"

He stared at nothing for a moment, before seeming to realize he'd been spoken to.

"Hm?" Hector turned his head, just slightly. The bags under his eyes made it look like he'd gotten into a fight.

"Your hand. Why's it wrapped like that?"

Instead of answering, he simply unwrapped and his hand and shrugged.

A crooked scar ran sideways along his palm. Clearly fresh, though not particularly deep, Drew thought. However old it was, it'd stopped actively bleeding. There were cuts along his fingers as well, but they weren't as noticeable.

"Nothing special." He said.

The sight made Drew itch. Blood had never bothered him, after the war, it was gore that was the problem.

A clean cut was making his stomach roll and his muscles tense.

"What happened?" Hector couldn't have possibly gotten in a fight with anyone, except perhaps the guard. Very few people actually knew who he was, and most of them were Greencloaks.

There'd be an uproar if it became common knowledge that they were housing Blackhand. A guard was the only person who'd know who he was, and want to do something about it.

Hector didn't look at him, shaking out and his hand instead.

"Nothing special." He repeated, his voice flat.

Drew wrinkled his nose. The room felt off. More compressed. Confined.

Darker.

He'd forgotten about the candles when he'd come in.

His stomach flipped, as if he were the one who had a problem with the dark, and he got up to light the candles.

"Don't bother." Hector muttered, stopping him. "It's just a waste of candles."

Drew stayed where he was, stood next to a book shelf that had most of the candles on it. He wasn't sure about leaving open flames next to old, dusty books, but it was the darkest corner of the room now.

"Hector," He asked, stilled poised to light a candle, "Did something happen last night?"

"I'm fine. There's just nothing to be done about it." Hector sighed, sinking into himself, holding his head in his hand and staring absently at the wall.

They both paused for a moment, neither doing anything, before he added on.

"Viles, that is. There's nothing to be done about viles."

Drew glanced at the cluster of candles, hardly any lit, before abandoning them and sitting back down.

"Surely there's some way to dispel them. You got rid of your brother."

Hector snorted, but otherwise didn't move, or even look at Drew. His eyes were glued to the wall, half open.

"I didn't get rid of Vincent, I got away from him. I wouldn't be surprised if his spirit is tied to Bevan's tower now, where he died."

"That doesn't mean getting rid of them is impossible, not necessarily." Drew pushed. Even if Hector was stuck in that room till he died, surely there was a way to get rid of the spirits in it so he could live in peace.

Hector sighed again, rubbing his eyes.

"Maybe. Probably. If it can be done, I didn't find out when I had the chance." He said, his voice becoming edged.

It'd been advised that he didn't ask for any books on magistry or necromancy, or anything of the like. He never tried.

"I really don't feel like talking about this, honestly. How goes it out there?"

Drew paused, annoyed for a second at the change in topic before biting his tongue. He couldn't force help onto someone who didn't want it.

A "man of the people" is a patient man. He'd be patient.

"Trent's caused quite the problem, threatening to maul a Greencloak like that. In the end, he agreed not to step foot in the Dyrewood once he leaves. Bergan's still sore about it though, giving everyone a scare when they're at their lowest." He explained.

"Last night, he and Gretchen bickered back and forth for hours. Eventually they stopped giving useful suggestions on what to do with him, and just argued. And then she brought you into the mix, and started a whole new argument." He sighed.

While he agreed with Gretchen, he wished it could have been brought up at any other time. When Bergan wasn't already feeling argumentative.

"Did she?"

The way Hector spoke made it seem like he wasn't quite listening, like he wasn't all there. Drew continued anyway. If he only wanted to half listen, then he'd give him that.

"She did. She told Bergan he was irrational, and that he's not fit to sentence anyone while he's got you locked up."

Hector paused, thinking over what he'd said, or something else, he couldn't tell. Something was bothering him, clearly. Probably the same things that had been bothering him. Drew didn't want to assume, though.

"Then what?"

"They nearly mauled each other-"

Hector flipped around to look at him before he could finish, looking alert for the first time. And shocked.

"Don't worry, they're both fine-" Drew started to clarify.

Before Hector interrupted him.

"Yes, I heard you, but he nearly mauled his niece?"

Drew couldn't tell if it was shock or outrage on his face. Maybe both.

"I know," He sighed, "None of us were at our best so late at night-"

"There's no excusing this, Drew!"

"I know! I know, its just... They're fine now. You don't need to worry, Bergan wouldn't do anything to hurt her." Drew reassured him, trying to sound as sure of himself as he could in the fact.

If anything, Bergan probably wouldn't attack first, at least.

Hector stared at him, with his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched. He wasn't quite buying it. Nevertheless, the seemed to give up on the matter and went limp, leaning against the back of the chair.

"She shouldn't have done that." Hector muttered, looking directly at the ceiling. "Its not worth it."

"What do you mean?" Drew could guess what he meant, he asked anyway.

"I mean she shouldn't be provoking him for nothing!" Though Hector didn't move, or noticeably change his expression, his voice rose, then fell again. "It's not her place."

"Its her place more than anyone's, she's your cousin."

"If she's going to get herself mauled by a bear, then its not!" He exclaimed, pulling himself back upright to look at Drew. "She's needed in Hedgemoor, she can't go getting herself killed over nothing."

"It's not over nothing, its over you! She's not even getting herself killed, anyways. We're all being as diplomatic as we can." Drew argued back, fighting the urge to stand up.

Towering over him probably wouldn't help.

"Well stop! It doesn't matter! If Bergan hasn't changed his mind already then he won't. It's a waste of your time!"

"We're not wasting our time, and we're not stopping! He's not that cruel. He'll listen." He insisted, trying to keep his voice down. He wanted to stay calm, or look it at least.

"Well maybe he shouldn't!" Hector did not feel the same.

"Hector-"

"Maybe I'm right for once and you should just give up! Even if he listens, what good would it do?" Hector cut him off, leaning forward with his hand on his knee. "Necromancy was all I was good at. Magistery is about devoting your life to helping people and all I could do was the exact opposite! Just give it a rest."

Drew didn't respond right away, his brow knitted together. When he stayed quiet, Hector leaned back against the chair, staring at the ceiling.

There was still no getting through to him. It was all obvious to Drew, that he wouldn't be hurting anyone, that of course Bergan was being absurd, of course he wouldn't stop trying, of course Hector can do good in the world.

He was too smart not to. He'd already been doing good for the last year, good for Drew at least. Every visit had left him feeling relieved. He could only be emotionally closed off for so long before-

Oh.

He understood why Trent was laughing at him.

Drew stood up, so quick the chair almost toppled backward. It startled Hector out of that absent look.

"Get up." He practically ordered him, though he really meant it to be a request.

"I-"

"Get up."

Hector stared at him, like what he was doing was absurd, but got up anyways. Slowly and carefully, never taking his eyes off Drew. Like a cornered animal.

Drew grabbed his wrist the second he was up, taking him toward the door.

A few steps away, Hector stopped, stiff and digging his heels into the ground.

Drew turned to look at him, and the look he got gave him pause.

Hector stood there, wide eyed and frightened looking, with his wrist in a vice. His pulse was hammering, Drew could feel it.

He let his grip go loose, sliding his hand down so he wasn't squeezing his wrist like that.

He was leading him by the hand instead.

"Come on." He said, the edge gone from his voice. It was more of a request than a command.

He opened the door for Hector, and lead him out.

[hello-alittlewritercub]

Letting Go

So I do believe I have a story to tell. 

I mentioned in one of my posts that I was reading “This is Me Letting You Go,” by Heidi Priebe to help me with some recent experiences I was and still am going through. I promised to explain later. 

Well dear reader, now is the time! 

My family moved to Pennsylvania when I was 9 years old, and we’d lived here for a few years previously. We aren’t by any means wealthy, and we made our home in a garage on our cousin’s property. We renovated it and called it the “Tiny house,” a fitting name. It was about 700 square feet, for a family of seven. Though it was small, we lived there for five years, and I formed some of my favorite memories there. I was a happy kid. 

When I was twelve, I joined the youth group at my church. I was extremely anxious about it; I’ve always struggled with anxiety. Even though all the girls were nice enough, I didn’t feel like I belonged. The ones who were my age saw me as awkward and unpredictable, which I was, even if they liked me. A few of the older ones took pity on me, and one wonderful young woman, four years my senior, took me under her wing. 

I felt desperately alone and out of place, even with my caretaker-friend. I would leave class to “use the bathroom” four or five times in a single hour, or  tear up in the middle of class for no apparent reason, and leave the room to spend the rest of the meeting by myself. A couple times, this young woman followed me and comforted me to the best of her ability. I absolutely loved her for it. I decided to let go of my fears and be more like her. She however, was a bubbly, confident, sweet, very extroverted girl, and the more I tried to be like her, the worse I must have appeared! I started opening up about my strange preferences - “Can we bring pickles to the breakfast party?” and trying to be as confident and engaging as my friend. While my confidence did improve, and I was happy in her company and she was proud of me, I could feel that something was off. I wasn’t being myself - and it felt wrong. I still didn’t have anyone I counted as a friend except her (although this was probably my doubt coming into play - I assumed the other girls were only nice to me because they were good people, and because I stayed with my extroverted friend, who was, to put it simply, popular.) Even though I trusted this girl, it never occurred to me that I could confide in her. I felt so alone (I didn’t even have my puppy yet at this point) that I would talk to the showerhead when I needed to pour my thoughts and feelings out of myself. 

Then, my brother entered the youth program. I started really trying to be his friend, because I didn’t want him to feel the loneliness that I did. And it worked! Though we weren’t nearly as close as we are now, I started getting a sense for what a real friend felt like, other than my caretaker friend, Elizabeth. 

When I was fourteen, Elizabeth moved away, to go to college. Right then is when my family decided to move to where we are now, and three days after we moved in, my new baby brother was born. It was a hectic and lonely time for me. After we settled in with our new family member, we started going to our new church. At first, not having Elizabeth and being in a new place with new people and new family members, was utterly exhausting. The girls and boys were divided, so I didn’t get to be with my brother. I felt swamped by the other people. I hardly spoke in any of the meetings, and I would cry myself to sleep every single night. I was angry with God for doing this to me. 

Finally, one night after a youth activity, I stood outside and poured my heart out through my streaming tears to the starry night sky, imagining I was talking to Heavenly Father. I explained how hurt, confused, and lonely I was. I felt a slow, achingly beautiful feeling of being loved wash over me. I remembered that I could simply open up - maybe the other girls were as afraid of me as I was of them. I could be brave and open up. 

I did my very best, though my natural awkwardness didn’t help my case. There was one girl, a garrulous, pretty Aisian who seemed to like me (I’ll call her Anna). She encouraged me to try to be friends with her best friend, an extremely quiet girl (who I’ll call Brianne).  I had noticed the girl before, and had liked her. She was quiet, but she didn’t mind. She was talented, but humble. She was everything I wanted to be. However, she wasn’t as bubbly as her friend, which led me to believe that she didn’t really like me. In an attempt to become emotionally close with Anna, I confided that I was scared Brianne didn’t really like me. Anna contradicted that Brianne was just shy, and when she felt out of place, she’d respond with apathy. I tried to accept what she’d said, hoping that maybe I could still make friends here. 

Well, Anna told Brianne’s parents that I had told her that Brianne hated me. This led Brianne’s mom (the leader of the girl’s group) to confront me about this. She told me I was being rude to their group by not opening up, that I should help them achieve unity, and that I was completely misjudging Brianne. I needed to be more accepting, she said. I was a disappointment, she said. 

While she didn’t say those things exactly, it was close enough. I’m sure she was only trying to help, but my sensitive, hurting spirit couldn’t take it. Anna had betrayed me and all I got from Brianne was carefully polite looks. I was growing much closer to my brother, but I gave up on any other friendships. 

That was when I met Taylor.

At one activity, I saw a small, very quiet girl sitting in the back. She wore tall unicorn socks, and I was amazed - I was too self conscious and afraid to even wear my favorite shoes outside the house, which had small flowers on them and reminded me of Elizabeth, who loved floral print. I  was intrigued, and I didn’t want the poor girl experience the same thing I was - so I went up to talk to her.

The two loners of the group, we immediately hit it off. Soon after, she asked for my contact information, and we became best friends extremely fast. Right then, Taylor’s family moved - not far from my house, but she wouldn’t be coming to the same church activities anymore. I was desperate for Taylor’s company, as I felt insecure and terrible without her. She contacted me everyday, and I could tell she struggled with some deep family and personal issues - and that made me decide that she needed a friend as much as I did. I was determined to take care of her.  Shortly after, I became depressed. I hate to admit it, but I had a few suicidal thoughts. My parents and brother became very worried about me, asking if my relationship with Taylor was healthy - but I pushed them away, convinced that Taylor needed me as much as I needed her, and that she was the only thing keeping me from becoming completely drowned in my depression. Little did I realize that Taylor, with her deep family issues, was also severely dishonest and manipulative, and that the reason I was her favorite person was because I was so easily manipulated, which was also the reason for my depression. She isolated me, convinced me that I belonged to her.  I defended her, and never suspected a thing. 

Shortly after, something happened where I was a little picked on, and though I did my best to be mature, my feelings were very hurt. Taylor didn’t help me, defend me, or take my side, but instead defended the person who had hurt my feelings. While she was right in that the person didn’t mean to hurt me, she was wrong in telling me that he was right. She manipulated me by feeding me mixed lies about the situation. Taylor’s friend, Ella, of whom I’d been told many faults by Taylor, came to my rescue. She helped me talk to the person who’d hurt my feelings - I explained that while I was sure he didn’t mean it, what he’d done was hurtful. He apologized, and I felt happy. Things were cleared up! 

A couple days after, I was arranging for Taylor to come to my house - and she was being very passive aggressive. I asked her what was wrong, told her she could confide in me, as I so often confided in her about my feelings of depression (which she told me were selfish and imagined). She responded angrily, saying that I had gone over the line, that I was immature, self absorbed, jaded, manipulative, and a couple other things. She said that by talking to the person who had hurt my feelings, I had completely broken her trust, and that she was severely disappointed in me. I was shocked, horrified, and terribly hurt. I ran out to my tree and sobbed heartwrenchingly for who knows how long. Not knowing what else to do, I asked Ella for help. She’d helped me before - I hoped she’d help me again. I explained to my parents and brother why I was crying, wanting them to tell me if I was overreacting, if what Taylor had said was true. Ella and my family responded similarly; Ella was furious that Taylor would treat me in that way. She asked me to show her my texts with Taylor, which I did, and Ella explained that Taylor was manipulating and gaslighting me. My parents told me that everything Taylor said was a lie, and they encouraged me to do what I thought best. Ella told me that I should block Taylor. The thought flashed through my mind - but Taylor needs me. She’s hurting and she needs me. 

But then I thought back. Did Taylor really need me? I considered what Ella and my family had said, and came to my own conclusion. I couldn’t talk to Taylor anymore. She was slowly killing my soul. Ella and my family supported me wholeheartedly. I realized that my brother, my parents, and Ella were true friends. I had thought that a good friendship entailed helping the other improve, telling the other of their faults - but that was me defending Taylor’s nasty, vicious words. What had she ever really done to help me? Nothing. She constantly told me of how terrible I was, or how good, because I was hers. She simultaneously made me feel worthless and worth the world - but I was only worth the world to her, she said. I belonged to her. She only told me I was worth something because she was worthless. When I would try to help her, she would dismiss me as irrelevant. She was a terrible friend, and as much as I still wanted to help her, I couldn’t stay in contact with her if I wanted to be happy. So I blocked her. 

I expected to feel heartbroken. I expected to feel lost. But in truth, I felt wonderful! I finally felt free, and I finally saw the wonderful friend I had in my brother, and the new friend that was opening up in Ella. I did wonder if I was labeling Taylor wrongly - but no. My parents have experience with diagnosably manipulative and toxic people, and they recognized the patterns in Taylor. I wasn’t overreacting. I prayed for her, but I didn’t speak to her. And I felt wonderful. 

But then, a month later, I began to feel insecure again. Being in such close contact with a person who was so deeply manipulative, dishonest, and toxic, had left me in a different state of being. I didn’t believe in my self worth, and I was governed by fear. I began to worry that I was being a bad person by cutting Taylor off. What if she was struggling too? I could be strong enough to take care of her, I would, I promised myself. I could handle both of us. 

So I reached out to her. I told her that I hoped we could be friends again, and asked her if we could both change so the relationship could be healthy. I told her I loved her and prayed for her. 

She responded by saying she hadn’t changed and wasn’t going to. Saddened, but not surprised, I told her that I couldn’t go back to talking to her again. I said I was sorry, but I didn’t think our friendship was healthy for either of us. 

She quipped that she was glad we weren’t friends anymore. She told me I’d been holding her down, that I was manipulative and hurtful to her, and that she was glad she wouldn’t have to come in contact with me again. This caught me off guard, and I believed her, hating myself for my pretended crime. But I had the thought to ask my parents. Was she just lying again? 

My Dad said heck yes, she’s lying to you. She sees that she’s lost control over you, so she’s just trying to hurt you in any way she can before you leave. He told me she was deeply screwed up, and that I was letting my love and idealism go to far. Going back to her was hurting myself. He assured me that re-blocking her was the best thing to do. 

So that’s what I did. It’s only been a couple weeks since that happened, and I’ve been experiencing very mixed feelings. I am happy, free, light, but I also feel terrible and get hot bouts of loneliness sometimes. Which is why I bought, “This is Me Letting You Go.” I thought it was a book for letting friends go, for infps. It’s actually a book for everyone, about letting go of the people we loved. It still helped me tremendously. It taught me that I am my own best friend, and that I deserve to make myself a better person, chase my dreams, and help others. I highly recommend this book! 

Slowly but surely, I am healing and becoming a better me than this version that Taylor molded me to become. I have found my best friends (See previous post!) and some promising people. Dear reader, I am proud of you for reading all the way to the end! This was a long and especially heavy post. Dear reader, I hope you have let go of painful people in your life to become your best self. I hope you learn to act out of love for yourself and others, and never fear. Dear reader, best of wishes. 

-littlewritercub