hh_mirror | Anger Management (Closed RP)

It had been a bad week. That was a pretty good way to put it. What made it all ten times worse, though, was that I'd been denied my usual ways of coping. I couldn't leave, couldn't ignore everyone and bang around in my kitchen, I couldn't even go on runs for fear of leaving the camp and the demon coming after Peter while I was gone. I was frustrated - by way more than just the demon - and I had energy to burn like you would not believe.

Oh, yeah. And I was pissed. But even I wasn't stupid enough to try to take down a demon. Which left me with way too much aggression and nowhere to put it. Peter needed me, so I shoved everything I was feeling deep down until, eventually, it had to explode. Peter had gone out earlier that day, Claude trailing (invisibly and unknown to Peter) behind him. Excellent.

I left a note saying I'd gone for a walk. Then, grabbing my splat gun and a bag containing several amulets and the machete I'd gotten from Dean, I headed out the door. What? It was a run. Recovering stolen merchandise. I'd even planned for it. Had steps and everything.

Arriving at my destination, I kicked open the door, my eyes scanning the room. Step one - check.

Sylar was sitting in a chair, headphones in, unaware. Two steps from the door, my fist connected with his jaw. Step two - check.

See? Going great.

Grinning ferociously, I aimed my splat gun at his head. "Hey, fuckface. You have something I need back."

Oh, this was going to work out swell.

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I closed my eyes and nodded, once. Not enough. Of course I wasn't. It'd been stupid to think that I could be.

"I'm sorry." My voice was so dead. How could my voice be so dead when I was screaming inside?

Without another word, I lay down, my back to him, staring off sightlessly into the darkness of the room. I was crying - I knew I was from the wetness on my cheeks - but I couldn't feel it. I couldn't feel anything but this empty hollow, this sense of utter failure.

I had been as open with Peter as I had ever been in my life. And it still wasn't enough. Who I was wasn't enough. Would never be enough.

So I was alone. Again.

Like it was supposed to be. Okay, Dad, I get it. I was too messed up for someone to love me, too lacking for someone to want to be with me. I wasn't worth a fight. And I'd been stupid to think for even a second that I would be.

Lost in my own thoughts, I wouldn't hear Peter leave. It was better that way.

Stifling the urge to kick something in frustration, Peter finally let go of the door. He couldn't leave it at that.

Slowly making his way over to the bed, Peter sat on the edge of it. This was really stupid. Rachel was in bad shape - she'd heal, though, no doubt about that. But he just couldn't stay here right now. Maybe he'd come back in a few days, a week, he didn't know. But he just needed some time off.

"I know you're thinking that who you are isn't enough," he commented quietly - not using telepathy, just knowledge of Rachel. "You're wrong, though. I wish I was enough for you. I wish I could help you learn to embrace emotions and loving people." But he didn't know if she even wanted to do that. Or, if she did, if she'd succeed. "I wish I hadn't taken the easy way out and done that deal. I wish I was as strong as you, to bear the weight of that. ...There's a lot of things I wish," he shrugged, feeling useless. Peter brushed the tears from Rachel's face with his thumb, leaning down to press a light kiss on her forehead. "I'll come back, don't doubt that. I think I just need to learn to be as strong as you, first."

Without giving it a second thought, Peter was off the bed and out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

There was no reaction to Peter - to his word, to his touch. Nothing. Rachel had gotten very good at shutting down over the years. Some people had breached that - Ivy, Jenks, and now Peter. But Peter walking out the door, leaving her, slammed everything back into place.

She didn't need anyone.

She was alone.

Better this way.

Anger Management (Closed RP)

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