Herryk is frustrated.At first, Freya had been so unbelievably excited to see a new letter from Tuck and Herryk, when she returned to the Haunted House. The place had become almost comfortable, to her. She knew exactly where to go and how to get there. She knew how to move silent, and listen for footsteps. Soft, clacky shoes meant a woman was coming. Heavy footfalls was a particular danger she avoided. In every new instance, she figured out how to keep herself from getting caught. It was as if she was training for her life as a Trick or Treater, with all the stealthy little things she was learning to do on her own. It felt kind of empowering, and it had begun to fill her with a little more self-respect than she usually had.
But when she read the letter, every ounce of strength that might have been building up in the last few weeks crumbled, and she was back to square one.
Tuck's letter hadn't upset her too much. It disturbed her to know Herryk was watching when Tuck was intimate with a ghoul. And why shouldn't it? It felt so wrong, in her heart. It felt like Herryk and Tuck shared women. That wasn't the Herryk she'd known, but he had no control over it.. they shared the same head. That was how Tuck put it. Gods help her, Tuck had read the letter. She was embarrassed, and horrified, and disgusted, and, she admitted it - jealous. It was safe to admit it to herself. It allowed the feeling to keep from festering into something ugly. But it was the least of her problems, this time around.
Herryk's letter was the one that managed to break her. It was so short, and so cautious. Even Tuck had to interject to explain why Herryk was closing up. But she knew. She always knew.
And it was her.
Little droplets of water started to smudge the ink of the letter before Freya realized she was crying. She put the letter down, and slowly slid to kneel on the floor, burying her face in her hands.
Why was she always so
bad for him? Why, even now, was she hurting the poor boil just by caring? How did she still have that power? She thought she had a second chance. She thought that she could have been as good for him as he was for Tuck. Life had given them a reboot on all of the pain, and suffering.. and all she could do was ******** it up again.
Who knows how she'd done it. Maybe a misplaced word here and there. Maybe she'd delved too far, said too much. Or maybe just the
existence and
knowledge of her, hurt him. Maybe that's all she ever could do.
She'd hoped for so much more, once upon a time.
But that time was gone.
Freya picked up the paper and started to rip it, trying to be strong. She'd stop writing to him. She'd leave him, and Tuck, in peace. They had each other now, and she was just a thorn of the past, burying into Herryk's mind, tormenting him. This was for the best.
She couldn't rip up the letter, though. She'd managed a tiny tear before she burst into tears and threw it to the side so she could cry without smudging it any further. She didn't have the strength to do anything right, anymore.
It is not a good feeling.Half an hour passed. Her cries had gone silent, and she'd fallen into a lull of quiet, hazy peace. Her heart ached painfully, but her mind felt numb and empty. She remembered this. It felt so good to be there, again. It had been so long.
But everything comes to an end.
Freya got up and picked up a piece of paper, flattening it out and putting it on her little table. Then she got a pen, and started to write.
That was as far as she got.
So she picked out another piece of paper, and tried again. They shared the same head, she reminded herself. This way might be easier.
Quote:
Dear Tuck:
Herryk is frustrated because he shouldn't know I exist. And that's my fault. I want you both to have a good life. I want you to be happy. I want you to forget you ever found me, because it's the only way Herryk will ever be truly free. I should have known better.. but I didn't.. and I'm sorry.
Tell him I love him.
No, don't tell him anything at all.
Freya carefully folded up the letter, put it in an envelope, and wrote Tuck's name on the front. Then she put the letter away under several sheets of paper in a drawer.
It was never delivered.
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