I listened intently to my lecture, trying not to spin my swivel chair from side to side so I didn't get distracted and lost in the oblivion of my thoughts. I very much loved my course of zoology. I loved anything to do with animals. Animals couldn't speak and therefore can't hurt me. Sure, they could bite and scratch, but that was only ever out of nervousness.
I never heard of an animal committing suicide.
Sometimes my anger was overwhelming, and like a person with anxiety, I didn't always know who I was angry with. I wasn't sure if it was Lacey for pushing Hugo and Emily to their deaths, James for making the situation a hundred times worse, or was the anger directed at Emily and Hugo for killing themselves.
I once lost it at their graves, and I screamed at them, wanting to know why they left me. After spitting out profanities and kicking their headstones, I'd go quiet. And I'd remember that they must have been in a horrific state of mind to kill themselves, and that they'd hardly think about me then. I was hardly important to them.
Any joy I had was drowned as I willed myself closer and closer to my counselling appointment. I went to keep my aunt happy that I was somehow dealing with my depression, mourning and anger.
"So Clodagh, how are you today?" asked both the condescending and understanding Dr. Kohli.
"Grand, I suppose" I sighed in boredom.
He scanned his notes.
Still don't remember anything about me, huh?
"So last time we discussed your father. Is that a topic you'd like to continue to discuss, or would you like to talk about something else, or maybe some art therapy, maybe?"
I clenched my jaw in frustration.
Art therapy? How old was I, five? *
"I want to talk, as usual" I said in a passive aggressive manner.
"Ok, Clodagh. I think it would be good to focus on your anger."
"Who are you angry with today?"
"My mum" I decided, after a pause.
"Your mum?" he frowned, shifting in his seat. "That's new" he added curiously.
I instantly felt uncomfortable under his intense stare, like I was a celebrity who was giving out too much information to a gossip magazine.
"Your mum never met Emily, am I correct?" he prodded after I stayed silent, using pointless hand gestures.
I shook my head.
"Then where's the anger coming from?"
"She was a fool" I said softly. I didn't want to insult a dead woman who couldn't defend herself, but I wanted to make sense of my thoughts. "She let herself fall in love.. With a monster. And then she didn't tell Hugo who he was or where he was from.. I mean, who does that? He was bullied for years because everyone believed her lie."
I felt strangely calm at the realisation my mum was the root to these problems, the reason Hugo and Emily killed themselves.. The woman Hugo loved more than anyone..
I don't think I'd develop hatred for her, but I was surprised at my serenity.
I'm sure I'll be furious later.