💥𝒢𝑜𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒹𝑜𝓂💥 [𝒳-𝑀𝑒𝓃]

Chapter 28: Even Heroes Die

"It's a sad song. It's a tragedy."

- Hermes, Hadestown

🖤 ┈┈┈┈․° 🥀 °․┈┈┈┈ 🖤

Elizabeth Grace's POV

Four and a half years later...

My dad and I used to argue and debate on a regular basis. It was common to hear a logic-based debate coming from the kitchen during breakfast if we disagreed. Fighting, however, was something that was almost never heard. I almost never fought with my father over anything. Home was a place that was always safe. It was a place I desired to be. Wherever my father was, it felt like home. All I wanted was to be near to my dad. He was my role model and my superhero. My goal was to be just like him.

Now, fights are what are heard over breakfast. His mind has become so warped and destroyed. I typically find him in a drunken stupor by midday. His mind, heart, and even soul are numbed by the alcohol. The man now claiming to exist as my father is far from it.

I left for Oxford the week after Sean's death. Due to this, I obviously wasn't home very often. Returning home on breaks was like living in a nightmare—yet I was awake. My home felt like a prison—a crypt for those who used to live here that faced death's hand. The halls were nearly eerily silent—unless dad and I were found screaming at each other.

The mansion was the last place I wanted to see. It no longer felt like my home. My father—my true father who died drowning in the alcohol that is now in control of this house—no longer lived here. This drunken man no longer has my dad's soft, inviting blue eyes. Now, they are lifeless. His voice isn't comforting. It is jumbled, gagged, and overall painful to hear. His brown hair is a tangled mess. His clothes are ragged and worn. Seeing him now breaks my heart every time I lay eyes on him.

I graduated from Oxford just before Christmas. Of course, I will be returning to the school to obtain my doctorate degree. Only being 17–turning 18 later this year—it was quite the experience. I was in a different country—and a different continent—than the only living family I had. Luckily, many of the professors in positions at the university recognized my name and quickly connected me with my father and offered to make sure that I was alright and surviving alright on my own. For this, I am grateful.

Being back home has certainly been a struggle. Dad is still in the same horrid condition he has been for several years. Even though I will be returning to Oxford beginning in the summer semester, the time here feels like an eternity.

I am arriving back at the house after driving around to clear my head a bit. Parked in front of the door is a car I don't recognize. I had found it odd that the gate was open when I returned. Normally it is always closed, keeping out any outsiders--not that it makes any sense why they would wish to come to this trainwreck. I guess this car explains why it was open. Walking in the house, I hear voices in discussion.