After the End: Book 4

82. Facing the Beast

A/N: enjoy!
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Harry's POV

Louis seemed shocked when I'd asked him to stay behind in the living room with Gemma. I wasn't under any impression that they wouldn't be listening to the entire thing, but I'd asked for a private word with my mother and I intended to receive it.

That was the plan. I had encouraging notes. I was walking the few short paces between the living room and the kitchen where I knew she'd be. I'd really ditched my last chance to turn back at the door.

I paused once to look down at my rapidly damaged notebook. It was not doing well in my clenched fists but I could still read the reminders I'd given myself on the paper. I focused on the first thing I'd written.

"1. Don't apologize for existing."

I took a deep breath and then forced myself to enter the room. The anxiety only allowed me to consciously exist one step at a time. The racing thoughts just got louder with each movement, but I let my eyes focus on her at the table anyway. She'd sat down and was staring expectantly at me when I walked in. There was no affection in her eyes; just cold and hard bewilderment at my presence.

Now that I was closer, I could see how much older she looked. It had really been so long. Anne had never had deep wrinkles like that around her eyes and mouth.

I wanted to keep standing, because I thought it would help with the nervous energy floating in my chest, but I thought she'd attribute it in some way to a criticism of me, so I pulled out a chair at the far end of the table and sat opposite from her.

I wanted to be the first one to talk. That had been my plan too. I was digging around in my brain for words when she beat me to it.

"You look older," she informed me.

My impulsive brain was apparently lacking it's filter because without thinking I replied, "So do you."

She stared back at me as if she took that as an insult. Like she hadn't just said it to me.

"It's been 5 years," I added helpfully.

"Longer than that," she countered. She folded her hands before herself on the table and cocked her head like she was awaiting what reaction I'd have to that.

I looked down at my own hands and found them quivering incessantly. I was resting them atop my notebook, and I thought about folding them away into my lap, but I didn't.

"More than 5 years," I agreed. "I guess that means we don't know eachother, do we? I certainly wouldn't pretend to know you."

"I know you," she said with an edge of annoyance. I couldn't fathom why she'd find my deliverance of that fact annoying.

"I don't think you do," I argued carefully. Her jaw tightened. Aside from her expressions of displeasure, she was presenting quite emotionlessly. "Five years is a long time."

"I think that's your youth showing," she said with a shrug. Her tone was neutral, but the condescending nature wasn't invisible. "Five years is nothing."

"It's an entire fifth of my life," I insisted.

Everything in my mind was trying to get upset. I wanted to be upset with her. Talking to her wasn't like the times I'd come to receive forgiveness from Jay. It wasn't equally scary and comforting. It was just scary, and I definitely didn't expect forgiveness this time anyways. I didn't even want it. It wasn't a goal at all.

But how could she pretend she knew me? Everything that happened during this time had completely changed who I was as a person. I was a different person than I'd been even just a year ago. So much had changed. I couldn't even barely recall what country I'd been at this point the year prior. She couldn't say that year or any of the five of them hadn't been instrumental and important. Even the therapist said that. I was much more that what one person could make me.