There were a lot of things she anticipated him saying, but that definitely wasn't one of them. His life seemed so whimsical and full of adventure that she... had a hard time imagining the harsher realities of her world applying to others. Part of her hates that it's just universal, really, that sometimes parents are cruel to their children. That there isn't a place to escape that sort of thing.
But another part of her - an awful, ugly part - is almost a little glad because it does mean no matter where she goes, she isn't truly alone. It's not that she would wish it on anyone, of course, and obviously wants the opposite to be true. Yet, the hint of relief buried beneath all that is there too. "I..." she tries to start, wondering what she could even say.
"I guess I didn't recognize," she manages, "it was kind of the same." While she doesn't clarify, she is speaking to a similar thing that Popp experienced with her own father. "The, like- Anxious anticipation, almost, of waiting for that other shoe to drop. It always would, eventually, but I just- I thought if I did better, if I learned and tried harder then he wouldn't- Maybe he'd see, someday, why I loved music like I did." The further away from all of it she gets though, the more she starts to wonder if he ever would have.
If she would have ever been enough to make that happen. "Or maybe he at least wouldn't get so angry. He never hit me." But, she doesn't say, she'd seen him strike others. Misto wore a scar across his face for trying to defend her against him once and she realizes now how easily it could be her sporting it instead. "Not that he had to, I guess, to be fucking awful sometimes. But, like. At least there was that."
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There were a lot of things she anticipated him saying, but that definitely wasn't one of them. His life seemed so whimsical and full of adventure that she... had a hard time imagining the harsher realities of her world applying to others. Part of her hates that it's just universal, really, that sometimes parents are cruel to their children. That there isn't a place to escape that sort of thing.
But another part of her - an awful, ugly part - is almost a little glad because it does mean no matter where she goes, she isn't truly alone. It's not that she would wish it on anyone, of course, and obviously wants the opposite to be true. Yet, the hint of relief buried beneath all that is there too. "I..." she tries to start, wondering what she could even say.
"I guess I didn't recognize," she manages, "it was kind of the same." While she doesn't clarify, she is speaking to a similar thing that Popp experienced with her own father. "The, like- Anxious anticipation, almost, of waiting for that other shoe to drop. It always would, eventually, but I just- I thought if I did better, if I learned and tried harder then he wouldn't- Maybe he'd see, someday, why I loved music like I did." The further away from all of it she gets though, the more she starts to wonder if he ever would have.
If she would have ever been enough to make that happen. "Or maybe he at least wouldn't get so angry. He never hit me." But, she doesn't say, she'd seen him strike others. Misto wore a scar across his face for trying to defend her against him once and she realizes now how easily it could be her sporting it instead. "Not that he had to, I guess, to be fucking awful sometimes. But, like. At least there was that."