Does The Hurt Last?
☪︎
don’t look at the ‘jan 2025’ please..
1,800.200|seeking help from the lovely @Sage Willows
𝓑rookline woke up Christmas morning with a complete pile of dread just sitting in her acid-burning stomach. She swore she had heart-burn as well. How would this Christmas turn out what happened last night. It would be horrible, someone would say. Another might say, don’t say anything mean or he’ll hurt you. Also you might wanna sleep the whole day, that’s what I would do, maybe someone else would say as well.
Alright, shut up, stupid voices. Don’t need you to ruin my already crappy day.
Slipping a hand under the covers, she moved the covers off of her, rolling out of her bed. Brookline didn’t know what the time was. All she knew was that she cried a good portion of the night, and she was exhausted. There was no way she could ever unwrap and open Christmas presents at this rate. But she still staggered down the stairs, her fingers lightly grasping the golden banister, her messy curly hair long forgotten, sobs and perhaps her own blood stained it.
She entered the den, finding her mother, three sisters and two brothers, all sitting down either at the couch, or the loveseat, and the armchairs. Amy looked beyond in space, as her fist cradled her cheek, her cheeks stained with mascara. Lizy was holding dear little Cash, as she too cradled her own head. Minnie and Marie must know what happened because they each shared a arm chair, and their eyes were puffy and red. Chase Jr. slouched in the loveseat, his head gently laid upon the armrest, fast asleep. The family den blanket was covering him, and Brookline supposed someone had brought the family den blanket over to the boy when his eyes closed.
Mum must have told them about her and Dad. Oh shit, this must be hard on Lizy and the twins. Oh shit, oh double shit.
Her mother snapped out of it, and opened her mouth to say something but closed when she figured out she had nothing to say. Though, Marie did say something.
“Br-Brookline, what does this mean? Will we ever see Daddy again? Is he going bye-bye? What’s going to happen to us?” Her tiny voice was soft and was almost scared. She stood up, and walked the couple feet over to Brookline.
Minnie’s head snapped up at Marie’s sudden moment, and her glance traveled around the room til it landed on Brookline’s hair. In this trembling voice, she said, “Yeah, Brooke, why does he want to leave? Doesn’t he love us?” Her fingers trembled and she grabbed hold of the armchair as if it would help her not fall of the chair.
You think I know? Hell, I believe it's my fault! I think you should ask him, himself. Oh, I should ask him that too.
Oh, you damn bastard, DAD, you are going to crush these life's before they even get to start! Oh if I ever get my hands on you.
Brookline cocked her head to get a better look at the twins. Their eyes filled with tears, and her own eyes filled with tears. She trembled slightly, “I-I don’t know.”
***
A few hours later, Brookline was showered, her hair combed, an stomach filled with food, and Christmas presents were opened. Sure, it wasn’t as joyful as it would have been if like her father hadn’t wanted an divorce. Her sisters and brothers were at least somewhat happy. Her mother was a mess... and her father was nowhere to be found. Did he already leave? Why would he? Without goodbye? Surely, surely he would say goodbye to his kids..
You’re such a fool, Brookline, She chided herself, Of course he wouldn’t! He’s a bastard and if he hurts a single hair on my siblings or mother, I will throw out my wand and snap him. I don’t care about the underage rule, I will snap him if he hurts anyone.
Brookline shook herself mentally as she stood up from her everlasting spot on the couch. The floor was riddled with wrapping paper. No one dared to pick it up. They wouldn’t because they left it for Amy who loved cleaning and cleaning up the scraps of wrapping. But this year, she wasn’t having it. She wouldn’t such more than smile at the younger kids showing off their gift. Brookline had to kick at this really huge scrap of wrapping out of the doorway to get to her room. She didn’t know what to do now. What would she do? She was so numb and flet so heavy that she couldn’t even bring her opened presents in her room.
Instead she grabbed a piece of parchment, and a small quill. Maybe she write her problems away.
I doubt anything will help me. But maybe writing on paper might help. People used to say journaling would help if you were sad or whatever, right? Or did the Muggles said that?
I don’t know and I don’t care at this moment.
***
December 25, 2024, Quinn Mansion, FerndaleDear Sage,
Merry Christmas to you, Sage! I hope your holidays are little more grander than mine over here. I don’t why I’m sending this letter to you, but I heard someone say that sometimes writing makes you feel better, and another say that telling someone gets the weight of your shoulders. But I chose you to write to because I don’t know real well, but we could get to know each other! And I wonder if writing/telling someone about my problems will make me feel better.
It’s okay if you don’t respond. Maybe you don’t have experience with fathers who are cruel and are bastards. Maybe you do and I’m sorry for it.
But, maybe I should tell you why I’m feeling low and deep in the ditch. So my father wants a divorce with my mother, and he’s always been cruel to my family and I wish he wouldn’t be. I’m wondering how long does the hurt lasts?
Thanks for reading, and have a good holiday season, wherever you are, Sage!
Your friend,
***
Brookline signed it and crept downstairs to find out if her mother’s owl was home. The tawny owl was. Tying the letter on the female’s talon, she pulled her hair back, and smiled gently at the owl.
“Okay, Trinity, send this off. Please?” The owl climbed upon her arm, perhaps wanting a stroke of the feathers before she was sent off on her flight. Brookline petted the owl, before letting the owl take flight out the window.
☪︎
Does The Hurt Last?
banner by alyssea brown
wc- 433
ooc notes-
Sage had been plopped down in her bed for the past hour, stuffed from the delicious meal made by Cassie and Kora and tired from the long train ride from London to Kent. Gifts had been exchanged, and the whole ordeal had gone off without a hitch. Casey was curled up by her feet, purring gently as he snoozed. Sage was about ready to drift off herself when Kora brought in a letter for her, mumbling something about Cassie's owl bringing something for her.
She sat up from her bed and read through the message from her friend, Brookline. Oh God, Sage would think. That is awful. Brookline didn't deserve this, no one did, let alone on a holiday. Her dad sounded worse than her own tense relationship with her father.
She grabbed a quill from her desk and scratched down a hurried reply.
Sage brought her letter for Brookline down and explained to Cassie she needed to borrow her owl.Brookline,
Can I just start by saying your father is an absolute jerk? God, who does that to their family, and on Christmas? That's awful that he's been so unkind. If you ever need anywhere to hang out during this break while all this is happening, you're welcome here at my place. Though, I'm not sure if you want to go all the way from Wales to Kent.
Are you alright? Having that happen with a family member is never a good thing. Try and relax, one day this won't be such a pain in your heart. You are welcome to chat with me about it more, or we can change the subject and let you focus on something else.
I do understand the pain that family can bring, especially with fathers. My own dad and I don't have the best relationship, too. It hasn't been great since my mum died when I was two. We don't live together anymore. He stayed in London, where I just got back from visiting him, while my step-mum, step-sister, and I headed for Kent. He doesn't really understand magic, nor me. We're trying to be friends again, though.
I like to think everything wrong will fix itself one day.
I hope you and your family are doing as best as they can do, and please let them know they have a shoulder to cry on here. I hope your holidays were as wonderful as they could be with this in mind, and I look forward to seeing you back at school.
Best wishes,
Sage Willows
"Everything okay?" Cassie would ask.
"Just helping out a friend."
Does The Hurt Last?
☪︎
| december twenty-sixth| outfit | xxx | xxx | english| welsh |
1,194.200|seeking help from the lovely @Sage Willows
𝓑rookline woke up the next day when her hair in knots again. Her long lush brunette hair usually didn’t knot but it had over the last couple nights. She did know she had cried again last night, and had dried her hair all wrong. She almost wanted to cry out again, to God this time and ask Him why she, herself was given to such a horrible father. Then a shiver rippled down her spine, Brookline knew she was being ungrateful so she threw the matter aside and rolled out of bed. She knew today would be another cranky and miserable day. She unlocked her door, and headed downstairs to find the family den’s floor still riddled with goofy Christmas wrapping paper.
Brookline’s face settled in an uneasy grimace as she trotted slowly to the kitchen and caught sight of the sleeping figure on the island. The figure was a sleeping possibly malicious Chase Senior. Brookline rose her fingers to her mouth, and her teeth grabbed hold of one of her fingernails. Most of them were still ragged and bitten, and she chewed that one fingernail off, feeding her restlessness. Zipping past her father, she went outside to get a breath of fresh but nippy air.
What she earned from going outside was a owl flapping towards her. It was Trinity with a letter on her talon! Brookline wasn’t sure if Sage would had answered. Butterflies fluttered in her chest as she wondered what Sage wrote about, whether it was a good cause to even write to the Hufflepuff girl.
Trinity swooped down below her and landed on the mansion’s deck, cocking her head with she saw Brookline’s messy tangled hair and red puffy eyes.
So she can notice it too? Great.
Petting the little owl, Brookline took the letter, and picked Trinity up in her arms, before opening the letter.
Once reading through the letter, Brookline let go of the owl, and Trinity flew off to her cage, probably for refreshments or whatever owls did when not delivering letters and packages for wizardkind. She tip-toed across the kitchen, carefully walking through without waking her father.
But, clearly, even the universe wanted completely different things.
As Brookline stepped around the island, she tripped slightly over Cash’s toys, the letter sliding out of her hands. Gasping, the Welsh pure-blood struggled to claim the parchment before she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground.
Of course, that had to happen and wake him up. Thanks universe. Thanks a lot. Brookline mentally scowled, her hand slapping her forehead.
Brookline heard a grunt, and a somewhat sleepily blurred voice, bland and accusing, “Brookline?? What are you doing here during the middle of night? And what’s that?”
All right, we’re done here. Goodbye, I shall stay in a ditch forever.
“Dad. Hello. I came down for a drink. Second; parchment. Goodbye.” Brookline had to bite her lip to keep from crying. She sprang up, hiding the letter before storming upstairs. Grabbing another piece of parchment and a quill, Brookline scribbled her reply.
***
December 26, 2024, Quinn Mansion, FerndaleSage,
Sure, I suppose, I like to think of him as a bastard. Not too long ago, in November, he sent me a letter that hurt me, and I guess I got really mad and frustrated, and kinda blew up. Oh, Sage, that’s such a kind offer, thank you, though I think my siblings and mum need me. My mother hasn’t been herself, she hasn’t cleaned the house since she told me about the divorce-thing. And that’s rare. I’m really worried about her. Would you be worried if, say, your stepmother wasn’t herself one day? Would it be right to worried? I just don’t know what to do about all this, to be downright honest, I feel like I’m gonna explode if I say something wrong or do something wrong.
I think I will be all right, it’ll be a while I think. Though my heart feels its been clawed out. And I wonder if talking about it makes my heart feel more clawed or less clawed.
Oh, I’m sorry about your dad, Sage. And oh gosh, your mum! Oh shit, here I am yapping about my dad, when you don’t even live with your own father, I’m so sorry, Sage. I really do hope you and your father have a good father-daughter relationship soon.
I hope so. It would be amazing if all life’s problems would just right themselves. Unfortunately, I don’t know after this, how anything could be okay again.
Thank you so much for responding, and understanding, it has helped me a bit. And thanks for your advice and the offer. Have a happy holiday season and can’t wait to see you at school too!
Warmly,
Brookline***
Brookline rolled the parchment up, putting her quill back in its original place before bursting out of her room. The pure-blood carefully crept through the kitchen, turning her head towards the island.
Oh, phew. He’s not here and very much so somewhere else. But where? Oh well, have this letter to send, much more important.
She walked into her mother’s study where Trinity’s cage wss located out, and Brookline was met with a few unexpected adult figures. Her mother and father were arguing, not full force but still their words were tense and she knew her mum was finding it hard to stay under control. In control over anger and sadness. Brookline could see tears forming in the former Ravenclaw’s gorgeous green eyes.
Any turned around in her chair, and in Welsh, she started, “Brookline? You need anything?” She sounded relieved to be saved by her daughter, when Chase Senior kept taking, she whipped around to face and told him to shut up. Brookline stood in admiration for her mother.
“Um, sorry to be a bother but is any chance I could borrow your owl, Mum?” In her mothertongue, Brookline nodded towards Trinity.
This time Brookline’s mother spoke in English, a bit distracted, “Oh course, Hon, you’re allowed to use Trin whenever you want. She’s basically a family owl.”--She turned to Brookline’s Dad--“Chase, first of all, they need a mother. If I wasn’t here for the past, what? Six to ten years? And you were the same, doing all kinds of things but NOT caring for them, our children would be dead and....”
Brookline tried her hardest for her parents not to see her gagging face and red cheeks. She was biting her lip to keep herself from not coughing or talking as she practically raced over to Trinity and pulled the small owl out of her cage.
The Ravenclaw sprinted out of her mother’s study, ending up in the kitchen, then tied the letter upon Trinity’s claw and let Trinity fly out the open kitchen door.
Oh my G-- dead? Sur-surely, Mam¹ knows how Grandma might take care of us, Nadine too.
Oh universe, right now would be a great time to right everything back up. Don’t you think? ... No?
Trembling, Brookline climbed the lengthy stairs to her room. Once she had opened and shut the door, she walked towards her bed, where she laid, face-first.
☪︎
Does The Hurt Last?
banner by alyssea brown
wc- 472
ooc notes-By the time the second owl from Brookline arrived, Sage had a stomachache. Had things gotten worse for her friend? Was she okay? Would she be okay? That was the hardest part of the whole thing, not knowing when it would get better.
Sage unfolded the letter at the kitchen table, and read it with shaking hands and watering eyes. How could something so dreadful attach itself to such a wonderful person?
Sage scribbled down her reply, itching with concern. Brookline deserved better was the only thing she could keep thinking.
She sealed the envelope, a tear falling onto the wax seal. Her shoulders shook as the familiar heartfelt melancholia reminded her what could've been, what should've been, for both Brookline and her.Oh, Brookline.
I hardly know where to begin. Your thoughts of your father are natural, I've thought of my own that way before. But things will get better. They have to. This was the falling off the cliff, and I know that you- being such a strong person- will be able to climb again.
Cassie was like that once, like how your mum is acting. It was scary. The best advice I can give to you in this sense is that you try to distract her, have tea with her, do whatever you can to help. The woman's just lost a love, that's hard. Since you say she's had trouble cleaning your home, perhaps you could help with that?
Remember, Brook, this hurt will not last. Your heart will mend, even if the hole your father left never does. A while is normal, expected. But I believe in you. And I believe your life will get better even if he cannot be there.
There is no need for you to be sorry, even if it is a horrible thing. Melancholia has been heavy, but I am happier now. I am going to be alright. I got to see Mum's grave when I went to London the first day of the holiday- that was nice. Sad, but nice. It's been a while since I've seen it.
In complete honesty, Cassie brought up over the summer a possible divorce, too, but nothing is final nor confirmed. I don't know what I would do if that happened, if I would even get to keep living with Cassie and Kora. The only thing I can do at this moment is focus on now.
This hurt will not last forever, even if it feels like it. You will climb and rise again, like a phoenix, even though you are technically an eagle if you are going by your house.
Best wishes,
Sage Willows
A shuttering breath, and then the wonder if what she told Brookline "This hurt will not last forever, even if it feels like it" was even true.
What if it wasn't?
Does The Hurt Last?
☪︎
created by the amazing alyssea brown!
| december twenty-eight| outfit | xxx | xxx | english| welsh |
975.200|seeking help from the lovely @Sage Willows
ℑn the dark comforts of the waning night, Brookline rolled over to her side,with the numb but comforting pillow blocking her ear. She had gone to bed without so much as a thought about dinner the night before. She wasn’t hungry anyway, she rather wither away instead of consuming something that won’t take the fresh pain away. She wished there was a potion, a potion that might take all her troubles, all her fears, all her tears, her heartbreak, all away. She could imagine herself making it.
When the pure-blood saw the trickling of soft morning’s light, she turned promptly away, her intensive thoughts declaring the sun was a nuisance to her shallow wallowing in her grief and misery. Brookline shoved her face into the cool sheen of her pillow, silent tears leaking from blue chips of ice. Then a sudden sharp knock rapped on the wooden door, the covers ruffled as she shot up, her eyes spread wide, rubbing them with dry hands.
Gripping her bed covers, she tried to strain her voice, trying to not make her voice crack. “Y-yes?”
“Brooke? It’s Marie.... Am I allowed t-to come in?” The familiar voice carried through the tiny gap between the door and the wall of Brookline’s room. Marie sounded nervous but defined. She then sighed.
Brookline nodded slightly to herself, “I guess. Come on in...”
She collapsed back onto the bed as Marie turned the knob and entered the room. In the ten-year-old girl’s hands was a envelope with Brookline’s name scripted on it. “Trin came by with couple packages. And this letter for you... Mum had me fetch it for you.... S-she’s not doing well she and she hasn’t taken a look at Chase Junior and Cash f-for a while and Minnie a-and I don’t what to do with you and Lizy shut up in your rooms... We don’t how to take care of Chase and C-c-Cash. Oh, Brookline! It’s so hard... I’m only ten, not almost eleven...! O-oh!” Marie rambled on, trmebling, her voice only faltering when she saw Brookline’s puffy eyes. “H-hey... Brookie... You okay?” Her voice was filled with concern, she found the bed, hauling herself up and taking a seat as she stared at Brookline’s face. Brookline shot up again
This is staring to affect Marie too... Why am I going to do?? “Yeah. Don’t worry about me, I-I’ll be fine. I’m always fine... You should go help Minnie with Cash... T-They'll be needing you - ya, you should g-go. Is that from Sage...?”
Marie looked crestfallen as she nodded sadly, got off her sister’s bed before turning back. “Uh, yeah - here you go... Erm, well, Brooke? Should I give Cash chopped up carrots or diced?” She asked, handing the letter to Brookline who glanced at the letter. “Er - oh yes. Make sure its very fine... he doesn’t have much teeth, remember? Cut in very small pieces..” Marie nodded, and then retreated, exiting the room, and the door made a tiny clink! as she closed it quietly.
Brookline ripped the letter open, scanned through it quickly and then her stomach dropped unexpectedly around more than midway through Sage’s letter. It was like someone had taken her stomach and ripped it in half. She couldn’t believe it, Sage had written: ...Cassie brought up over the summer a possible divorce, too... Woozy as she just drunk a spiked drink, she shot up like a jack-in-the-box again, Brookline hopped out of bed, gripping Sage’s letter as if her life was on the line. Trembling, she yanked open drawers and dresses as she probed for quill and parchment. Once she caught sight of the pair, she grabbed it, and pulled the letter to her face, reading the rest.
Brookline sighed. How could she focus like a time like this? But she scribbled down a reply, hoping for the best.
Sage,
If things will get better, then why do I feel like I’d do better wasted away? I don’t know why I feel that away, but it’s just nagging me so much. Falling off the cliff? It does feel like that, in genuine honesty.
Oh, I hope she’s okay now. And my Mum too. It’ll kill me if she’ll stay like this. Pretty sure it’s about to get worst. This morning when Marie came in with your letter, she was rambling and mumbling about my Mum, and how she’s not doing well and Marie and Minnie has to be with my little brothers Cash and Chase. I only hope she’ll pay attention to them soon. Distract her, you say? That might be hard to do, but I’ll try. She’s been around, but not much. Yesterday I caught her squabbling with my dad.
Thanks, Sage. Just...I don’t know. Well, would you happen to know why it takes so long to heal? And what happens if he ends up hurting me more? What happens then? I don’t know if I can love him again...
Glad you’re all right though. If you don’t mind me asking... did you used to see your mum’s grave often? Before you moved to Kent, that is? I’m sorry, I suppose I’m a bit curious.
I think you are correct. If you keep worrying about something that may or not happen in the future, you may never get to appreciate and experience the things that are right under your nose. Although I hope you get to stay with Cassie and Kora. Would/are you be happy with them? I think whatever someone does and wherever someone goes, they should follow their heart and at least try to seek happiness.
I rather hope the hurt doesn’t last, though, like I said, it still hurts. I sure hope happiness would cone easier. And I really hope I’ll get to rise like a phoenix again or for that matter, an eagle.
Warm regards,
Brookline
☪︎
Does The Hurt Last?
banner by alyssea brown
wc- 383
ooc notes-With shaking hands and heart, Sage flopped down on a pile of blankets to read- Brookline's latest reply. This one, with the pent up and grief, was worse. So, so much worse. With a heavy heart, she mourned for her own friend's loss. She deserved better than this. Being the only thing she could do would be to reply, Sage- still positioned on the blankets- began penning what she hoped would help someone going through so much.
She sealed off the letter and bent her head for a second of peace. She really didn't know what to do in her situation nor Brookline's, for that matter.Brookline,
I hardly know where to begin, where to start helping this time round. Feeling so poorly, so broken, has probably been the way most who have experienced such loss feel. I do not remember my own mum, but I assume when she died I was feeling the same thing, especially as I was adapting to the whole new way I'd have to live in the world with a single-parent household and being disabled.
There's this one quote I've heard, every storm runs out of rain, and I know this is true for your situation too. If you feel the worst is on its way, try to protect your siblings, but yourself as well. Do you have any close relatives you could talk to? Maybe they could offer some aid!
Your question about hurt, I still ponder that many times, staring up at my ceiling and just hurting. It takes a long time, and while the pain does get easier, it does feel like it starts anew at some points. But, and this I do know, you are incredibly strong, Brookline. Take all the time and space you need to heal, even if it stretches long spans of time.
I hope I can stay with them, too. Cassie has basically stepped in as my mum, and I've never truly thought of Kora as anything less than my sister. I only hope everyone else can see it the same way.
You are resilient, Brookline. This I know, even if now it doesn't feel like it. I am thinking of you and your family daily, please take care.
Best,
Sage Willows
They both were breathing without someone they loved.
Does The Hurt Last?
☪︎
1,523.200|seeking help from the lovely @Sage Willows
𝓑rookline, after she sent the last letter, on the twenty-eight, had gone to sleep and didn’t wake up til dinner. As she made herself push through the supper her mother had poorly made, she shoveled in half-cooked Shepard’s pie with her fork. At least her mother cooked, even though it was cold and Amy had missed a couple ingredients, like peas and carrots. And the lamb was still a bit pink but it wouldn’t hurt.
Chase Senior didn’t do anything, just silently watching his children and cutting his own food into fourths, most likely trying to not retch up the horrid dinner. Brookline’s blank eyes glanced at the knife, her father had placed askew, right at the edge of the tablecloth, its point not facing him. She didn’t know if it was on accident or purpose but she could never see her father letting a meat’s knife fly towards one of them unless he was a psychopath or a bloody idiot. It was probably on accident.
Anyways, just to be safe, Brookline smiled weakly, her jaw protesting, and she grabbed her empty plate. Getting up, and pushing in her chair, she would grab the askewed knife, and her father’s empty plate. Brookline walked to the sink, and dumped the plates, and knife inside. She couldn’t see her father’s face as she retreated upstairs and into her room, but she would cover the covers over her, falling into a deep sleep.☪︎ ☪︎ ☪︎
Brookline slept, and slept til the thirtieth of December. Two days. It was evening, and the dark sky made her rub her eyes, in confusion. She couldn’t see that she slept so long. The Ravenclaw girl had never slept so long before. She yawned, her senses all groggy. She flung her hands to her cheeks, her skin pink and sore. She had cried again.
Huffing, the emotional Ravenclaw pulled the covers off her, hauled herself off the bed, and headed for the door, jerked open the handle. Her eyes narrowed as she stepped out into the sad darkness.
Creeping downstairs, her breath hitched as she heard a noise. A crash. She froze, crossing her fingers, and she heard pawsteps padding down the stairs. A breath of pent-up relief, and Brookline saw her Tigeress. She knelt down, picking the feline up, and into her arms. Tigeress mewed, and she shushed her, placing a finger on the cat’s pink nose. “Shhh. We have to be quiet. It’s night-time,” her suppressed whisper turned into a gasp when she heard another crash.
Whipping round, she saw nothing in the gloom. She shook her head, and continued her descent down the staircase, her hand slightly grazing the golden brown banister. Brookline had to remind herself to breathe. To breathe. Her father’s low voice continued to echo throughout her head, and she clutched her kitten, tightly. She wondered why her mother or little siblings hadn’t woken her up. Surely, they would? So she wouldn’t starve or die of thirst.
Unless they forgot about her.
Brookline’s train of thought, stopped as she stopped herself in front of the dining table. T-they wouldn’t. No, they couldn’t. N-no. No. No. They’re better than that. They were just being nice. Yes, that’s it. She tried to convince herself as much as she could. She squeezed Tigeress, and became a bit nervous.
Brookline set her feline on the counter as she reached for the fridge in the kitchen, and grabbed the milk carton, also grabbing a tall glass from the cupboard. Brookline’s hand shook as she poured the milk in her glass, trying not to spill crap all over the floor. She drained her glass, and realized she hadn’t drank milk in a while. She wouldn’t have chosen milk but tonight was an exception.
The Ravenclaw girl noticed the large of pile of letters, and wondered if Sage had replied to her. She flipped through the letters, seeing all sorts of scripted names. Amy Quinn, Chase Quinn, The Quinn Family, Amy, Quinn, Amelia Quinn, and those were only a few! Her parents got a lot of letters and owls, it was insane. She wouldn’t wany to get owls and owls all the time.
What she thought was strange is that someone had addressed her mother as “Amelia”. Brookline never heard her mother being addressed as “Amelia”, it was always “Amy”. Never Amelia. Anyways she shrugged that off, and looked for her name. She found it, and ripped the envelope, her hands shaking. A cold shiver swam down her spine, as she read Sage’s letter. Opening her mother’s drawer, she took out a quill of Amy’s. The Ravenclaw girl started to write the letter, this time her handwriting in scrawled print instead of her signature loopy cursive.
Tigeress mewed as she continued writing her letter, and she reached up, giving her kitten a little ear scratch.
She had almost finished when a squeaky voice startled her. “Is that miss Brooke, Winmy seee?” The little bald house elf held a rag and dust brush. Her voice was almost hesitant, and had a pinch of fear.
Brookline set down the quill on the piece of parchment, and nodded sadly, “Yes. Hello Winmy.”
Winmy frowned and placed her items on the checked kitchen floor before tottering toward Brookline, her footsteps quiet. “Does Brookline not feel okay? Does Winmy need to check Brooke’s temperature? Is Brooke ill?”
The Ravenclaw girl’s hands slightly shook, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m okay. No need to check it. I’m fine.”
“All right. Would Brookline tell Winmy if she wasn’t feeling okay?” Winmy took another step and nodded.
Brookline nodded, and the little elf’s squeaky voice almost made her cry. “Of course, I would, Winmy.”
Winmy nodded, slightly, and walked back to her items, picking them back up in her small frail arms. She turned back around, her face firm, like a mother's. “Brookline better tell me. Winmy finished cleaning so she will go to bed. Brooke, will too? Soon, Winmy means?”
Brookline nodded, her tangled hair becoming even more tangled, “Yes, ma’am. I’ll go to my room as soon as I finish this letter.”
Winmy stood in place as she considered it, like a motherly women would. She nodded slightly, as she allowed it. “Good. Have a good night, Miss Brookline.” The elf gave Brookline a little goodnight hug and retreated to her own room where she shares with the Quinns’ other beloved house elf, Coobey.
“Good night, Winmy.”
The Welsh pure-blood would stay true to her word, and finished her letter. Brookline would pick up Tigeress and the letter and went up to her room. She settled in, tucked between her blankets with Tigeress at the foot of the bed and her angry tears would finally slip down again into her pillow. She was tired of those tears. Another question echoed in her mind as she drifted off to deeper sleep; Why must it be me who feels like this?
She would send Sage’s letter in the morning.Sage,
I bet that was hard. Even though you didn’t remember it, I’m sure it was hard to realize that there wasn’t a motherly figure around for a bit.
Your quote, does it mean I’ll stop hurting or even stop crying? I do have my Dad’s brother and his family. They’re so much better than my father, and during Christmas, my Aunt Nadine stood up to him after he screamed at my Mum and Uncle Flynn. He’s so dangerous but then again, I keep telling these damn voices and my Dad’s voice to shut up. Am I a monster to those voices? I only hope I don’t screech curses at people.
How does the hurt get easier? I feel like every time I fall asleep, I start crying! Why am I crying? I hate crying. It’s just so stupid all this shit he created, why couldn’t I have a better father? Why couldn’t your own Dad haven’t been better to you? What about other people? Why can’t people just be nice? It makes me sick just watching people be mean to each other? I can only imagine what Muggles do to each other as I’ve seen what happens at Hogwarts.
Me too, it’ll suck if the government or your father doesn’t see you want to stay with Cassie and Kora. I mean, you and I are minors and we can’t decide where we live and stay but we can decide who we love and care for. If you want to stay with Cassie, I think you should, because if I’m being genuine honest, some people - like fathers - aren’t the best to live with. But you can still love your father. I mean, I’ve always wanted my Dad to go away, but I see now. It hurts because I loved him. I don’t want to live with him, but it doesn’t mean I can’t freaking love him. Just like with your father. If he can’t see that, then I don’t know what will happen.
I don’t know about that, but I hope I can see that soon. Thanks, Sage, and take care as well.
Warmly,
Brookline
ooc note: chase’s steak knife placed on the edge was purely on accident, and not on purpose. chase senior is not a murderer. brooke is literally just a little worry-wart and can’t stop worrying and fearing for her life and her family members’ lives.
sage, so sorry for the delay
☪︎
Does The Hurt Last?
banner by alyssea brown
wc- 650
ooc notes-Sage felt the second the owl arrived. The burrowing pain hit her, nausea swept in, she froze. What now, what now? All she could hope for is that it hadn't gotten worse. But it always got worse, Brook would still have to make it to the top of the hill.
Had Sage made it to the top of her hill, her mountain? What, oh God, would she do if the worst hadn't passed?
With shaking hands, Sage collected the owl from the talons of Cassie's owl and returned to the solitude of her abode. Cassie's eyes from where she stood, tucked in the little kitchen, followed Sage up the stairs. Behind her, Sage heard a heavy, precarious sigh.
She melted onto her bed, pulling the duvet around her hunched shoulders, letting her posture slip into something less than regal. Was it her eyes that shook, or her hands from the force of a thousand pounds on her back? The tears clouding her eyes didn't let her see until they soaked through the parchment.
Brookline,
The pain my heart feels when I see you describe the effort you put forth to heal is indescribable. I'd give your father a swift uppercut if I had the chance (and if I knew how exactly to do that). Maybe just a million paged essay on what he's doing to you. Horrible as you say him to be, I don't think I would be capable of being physically violent.
In complete honesty, part of me just adjusted to not having Mum around. Five years passed without her, before Cassie. And now, as I write this, I realize I've endured an equal amount of time without my father around, too. Now, I couldn't imagine another way of life.
I know it seems impossible right now. But it isn't. I've found that, eventually, you find new things to have your mind set on. And the pain becomes easier to manage, to accept. Crying, though it has its mental and physical tolls, helps. It does. It allows you to feel that you have mourned the loss, that you have recognized it. And (this is my favorite part!) after you cry, you only feel better from there, even if it doesn't feel like that instantly. I promise to everything that is good and great, you will not hurt forever.
Christopher not being a constant in my life has been something I've grieved over. But that is who he is to me: Christopher, not Dad. He is not completely to blame for our fallout, I hold as much responsibility as him.
Should circumstances come where I am removed from living with Cassie, I don't know what I'll do. I'd love nothing more than for her to be my official guardian, she deserves having daughters more than I feel Christopher does. Does that make me sound awful?
What you say sticks out to me. We can chose who to love, who to forget. You are right. It hurts because we thought we had forever. And now we don't. Now we just have that melancholia to sort out. And that sucks. It really, really sucks.
I have been raised by a family that was a big believer in fate. The Willows, specifically my father's side, have taught me that. Once I got to the point where I started Hogwarts and lost him, my exact thoughts were "Screw fate". If it is my- our- fate to lose our fathers to something other than death, then I will choose free will. Sorry, Willows, I'll make my own freaking prophecy.
You can make your own freaking prophecy, too, Brook. I know you can.
Best wishes,
Sage Willows
And there it was: How To Make Your Own Freaking Prophecy- A Beginners Guide. And... it felt like it was the how-to guide she needed her whole life. Why not write it herself?
How's that for a prophecy?
Does The Hurt Last?
☪︎
1,642.200|seeking help from the lovely @Sage Willows
𝓑rookline woke up the first with intense pain in the large knot what she called her stomach. She could smell the salty tears in her hair and pillow, as she could taste salt in her mouth. The pain only grew stronger. It felt like guilt, emotional pain, and tears.
The tears only slipped down her sore cheeks. Everything was blurry, and she couldn’t see through the thick, wet, sticky flim - a stupid thing called TEARS - covering her eyes. How has she survive this, so far? It seemed like forever. It seemed like all her walls were crumbling down, her life, her judgement, her choices.
Everything.
Was.
Crumbling.
Down.
All.
The.
Way.
Down.
And there was nobody to catch her.
And who knew how long she would be down in the hole?
And who or what would show her back to the glorious, joyful light?
Brookline needed help. But she had no idea how to get help. Nor she did she want to hurt anyone else. It burned. In her heart. She wanted to help fix her father, not burn him down. Why did people like to let people down? It needed to be stopped! Of course it had to be. For sure.
But how would it be stopped? Just how? The human race was complicated.
There can be kind people. But also horrid people who had been stuck down in the hole long enough that they can’t see right from wrong.
Uh!
Would that be me? Brookline’s dark thought reached down to her core. She really hoped this pain would be gone in a flick of a eye. Then more fresh tears fell down; it was like her brain was an waterfall. And everything inside was drowning and the only way for the water to end.
Was for the water to be realised through sobs, tears, weeping. Her pain.
I don’t like that simile. I hate them! Similes and metaphors. There always so gruesome. And weak. And harsh.
The Ravenclaw girl growled, her pain for her father only growing larger. It was not pretty. She never wanted this. She just wanted a normal family, with normal everything, a normal father, a normal mother.
A.
Normal.
Life.
She hated this. There was just no way. Her grandparents were always, always so kind. How did her father get like this? She just wanted to help her father, not burn him down. It was like her heart. Brookline’s heart was burning with pain she didn’t want.
Pain she didn’t want.
Why did people let people down???
Her mind screamed.
Why did people let others down??
Lads aren’t supposed do that to their mates! They’re supposed to help each other. Was that so hard to ask??!
What was wrong with people??
What happened to me. They do bad things because they have a bad childhood or horrid life and now they’re taking their bad attitude on others. It’s just hard.
And that just might be me.
I don’t want it to be me. But it just might.
A sharp rap on the door jolted Brookline out of her thoughts and startled her right out of her wits. She rubbed her shot eyes, rubbing all the tears, and shot right up out of bed.
“Uh! Y - yes?? Urm, c - come on in!”
You couldn’t stop poor Brookline. It was just too hard.
And she knew she deserves this. How many times she asks herself why, she knew. Her father and what she’d said to him and thought about him. Horrid, dreadful, desperate things. It was just disgusting.
But deep down, she knew it wasn’t her. It wasn’t her doings that made all this pain. Yet, she still tried to convince herself.
The door squeaked open, and a head full of brunette hair popped through the crack. “Hey... what’s up, Brookie?”
“I - I’m okay.” Her voice responded instantly. She was desperate.
Minnie frowned.
Brookline caught the frown, and added, eyeing the envelope taut in Minnie’s hand, “Um, I suppose that is mine?”
Her sister’s eyebrow went up suspiciously, but she compiled. Minnie held out the letter, saying, “Yeah, okay. Here.” But as Brookline latched on the letter, Minnie only held on.
Voice commanding and firm, Minnie knew how she got things. “You come clean, you get your letter. I know how you feel, you’re gutted. We all are. Because of him.” Her lips pursed together, as she waited for her older sister’s confession.
But.
Minnie added, her voice softer, and it sounded like she was about to cry, “Brookline, I know.”
Brookline’s lips trembled. But she was not going to cry.
“Okay.”
She let go of the letter and got off the bed. She grabbed her sister’s hand, and started, “Minnie. You’re right. I’m not feeling okay. I have this pain in the shape of a knot in my stomach and it hurts. And he hurts. I think. But what I do know, he hurt me. He hurt you, Marie. And Mum, and Lizy. Chase Junior and Cash. And I don’t know if I can live with that. People aren’t supposed to that.
Definitely not our own father.”
Minnie squeezed Brookline’s hand, dangerously, as if she felt like she wouldn’t be able to see Brookline ever again. Her voice started firm, more dangerous,“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say that. You will live through it. Just like me. You will...” Her voice faded. Then Minnie started sobbing and Brookline wrapped her arms around her sister, tears starting to fall. And Minnie contined, her voice breaking through her sobs, “Don’t say that or you will believe it and... we don’t want that. Please...”
Brookline squeezed her sister tighter in the embrace, and she whispered, “Okay, Minnie.”
Both Quinn seemed to understand, and Minnie nodded, handing Brookline the letter. “Here. And... thank you...” She left and closed shut the door.
Brookline ripped open the letter, and broke down again, reading Sage’s letter.
At the end of the letter, you could see Brookline peek a smile and a little giggle. It was emotional but she loved when Sage would go her own way. It was the Hufflepuff’s style, and she loved that about Sage.
Sorry, Willows, I'll make my own freaking prophecy.
Brookline nodded to herself, If I could say that to my father.Sage,
I only wish all this is a dream. All this hurt. Everything he’s done, all but a simple dream. I keep waiting to wake up up from this horrid, dreadful dream. And, Sage, I don’t think you will ever be that violent and cruel. No, you won’t. There’s absolutely no way, you're such a kind person. And so amazing, no one can ever take that from you. Anyways, how can evil even could destroy such a kind soul?
Okay. I suppose crying can help. But I don’t think it can help, long-term. It’s like there’s so, so, so much water in my head, and that’s the only way it’ll ever get out. Crying. And, to be completely honest, after I cry, all I feel is pain and weakness. So, I believe you, but it takes a lot of me to believe that this large amount of pain will ever go away.
I see and understand. But I just have one question, about Christopher and your fallout. How do you hold responsibility? Or, what I mean is, I know I must hold responsibility to my own father’s drunk and horrid behaviour, but your father - it is his fault you, your step-mum, and step-sister went to Kent, correct? - doesn’t like magic and what you write in your letters, it seems like he just shut you out. Besides when he wanted to know you again. I’m sorry, I don’t understand, how do you hold responsibility as much as your father? There, that is the right question.
No, of course not! It does not sound awful at all. It really is just the hard truth. No offense to your father but every single human (and animals) deserve love but some people are just too hard to live with. Take one of my house elfs for example. That house elf, my sister, Lizy and I rescued from a cruel pure-blood family. Coobey never deserved that nasty family to hurt him and make her do everything. He couldn’t live in that dysfunctional home any longer. So he’s with us now. And I’m glad he did, he’s kinda like a father figure. I’ll say it again, you don’t sound awful. At all.
Yes, we can. Because if we couldn’t choose who to love, and who to forget, we’d be in a deeper hole, and the whole world would be even more worst in it’s human race’s sin. And, yes, it does hurt. That sadness is something I desperately wish I could change, to pretend it is all a simple dream but it can’t, and it does sucks. And I could never pretend it didn’t suck.
That sounds like you. Screw faith is really like a weight-lifter. Sometimes life feels like that. I’ll choose free will too, because even though it’s not death, our fathers shouldn’t control us. They shouldn’t ever! They’re supposed to be that role model, not that person who doesn’t live with us, (emotionally, or/and physically). But, I guess, life doesn’t work out that way. It made me smile when you said that you’ll make your own prophecy, because we should choose it. Our families shouldn’t, even if they don’t realize it.
Okay, I’ll try. It’ll hurt but I will try.
Warmly,
BrooklineHer hands were shaking so bad when she had finished. It was like everything was unnerving. Gosh, perhaps it was really time to say Frick you, Dad, you can’t control me anymore and you can’t hurt me anymore...
Okay, perhaps Brookline can’t say that yet. But she won’t let him control her.
☪︎
Does The Hurt Last?
banner by alyssea brown
wc- 519
ooc notes-The time before Sage would return to Hogwarts was diminishing by the second. Sage, eager to see what the rest of her second year had in store, still remained anxious regarding Brookline's letters to her. January 2nd, the day her friend's most recent owl arrived, and sitting didn't even take the weight off.
Her hands shook, just as they always did. Why had all her recent owls been about sadness? She noticed all the joyfulness she had always hoped to receive an owl about no longer seemed like a possibility. Had she just gotten it wrong, or would all owls come to bring bad news? She didn't even hate offering mentorship to Brookline, to anyone. It was just... She'd have to tolerate it.
Sealing the letter didn't feel any easier. But she did it. And she looked out her window to sigh. "Why" was the only question in her mind. Things just had to change...Brookline,
I am rarely someone who disagrees with people, and even here I remain such. It doesn't feel real. Like you're stuck in some sort of twisted nightmare. I find myself falling asleep into that dream sometimes. It's hard. It's really, really hard. But I'm here shaking you awake, I promise you'll wake up from this. I promise.
I don't know how much experience you've previously had with grief, but that's the thing. It never really goes away. The load simply gets easier to manage. When Mum died, I'm sure my young self was still enveloped by the pain of losing her and adjusting to the big ways my life had changed. Even now, I still find myself getting a tad emotional about her. I did in London just recently. And every day, every second I live past the wreck, is a reminder of what happened. But if I could survive that, if I could make it through the initial days without Christopher, I know everything else will get easier. It has to.
These days you're living through now may feel like your future, but they don't have to be.
Our two situations are slightly different, but here is what I think. I didn't try to fix anything with my dad. Yeah, a lot of it was on him. He never cared for how much I was becoming like Mum, but I didn't take the time to talk to him about it. Yeah, I was young but... I still feel a lot of that weight on me. The man had just lost his wife for God's sake and then had to adjust to his daughter being disabled. Not taking the time to recognize how much he was hurting too... It just breaks my heart to think I didn't help.
God, I feel like a lot of this was about me... I'm excited to see you at school again, I hope you're feeling better then, even if you're still hurting a lot. I promise you it will get easier. I promise to everything. It has to change. You're too good of a person to feel like crap forever.
I'm here for you.
Best,
Sage