Potter does Prompts

The Aftermath of Death

Day five Chapter title:The Beginning

Source: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Main event in the chapter: Hogwart's deals with the aftermath of Cedric Diggory's murder and Dumbledore's announcement of Voldemort's return.

**

Analiese watches her face in the mirror and chants her mantra. The end of life is only the beginning of something else. Death is as natural as life. "So says the psychologist," she mutters. Analiese imagines the mirror fracturing. "Now that would be an accurate reflection of what's left of me."

Her husband calls from the bedroom. "You say something, love?"

Before her dad died, the bathroom walls painted yellow brightened her day. Now, all she sees is putrid green. Another illusion that represents her devastation.

"Analiese? We'll be late for the party."

Analiese is an elegant symphony. Drake is a boozy bar song.

The sound of his footsteps coming closer annoys her. Why can't he just leave me alone? "I'm coming out now."

Her psychologist, too cheerful for Analiese's state of mind, suggested she get out of the house more. See friends. Get drunk. She never told Dr. Wheaton how she self-medicates with alcohol. I could go to the party and get smashed for a few hours of relief. But I'll sober up, and life will be even more empty. She takes a healthy swig from the whiskey bottle hidden behind her tampons in the sink's cabinet, tucking it away from Drake's sight.

At the threshold now, he frowns at her. "The time to mourn is over, sweetie."

Analiese throws a hand mirror at his face. "How dare you tell me the time to mourn is over."

Drake zigzags and ducks, the mirror sails over him. He soldiers on. "You don't have to continue wearing black." He strides across the room over to the closet and shuffles through her clothes.

The sound of metal scraping against metal is excruciating due to Analiese's hyper-sensitivity. She's numb. Life crashes against her ears.

"You'd look smashing in this flowered dress." Drake swishes it through the air, a woman dancing. Instead of heeding the warning expressed through the flying mirror, he walks over to his wife and embraces her. "I'm trying to help, not hurt," he whispers in her ear.

An awkward but effective turn releases Analiese from his grip. "Don't touch me," she screeches and runs to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door. The mirror taunts. "The end of life is only the beginning of something else. Death is as natural as life." Spittle sprays. Her dad wanted everything spotless, and she honors him by continuing his fastidiousness. She wipes clean the mirror. From the sound of Drake's breathing, she knows he's leaning against the door. She braces herself for the next round of comforting.

Drake sighs. "I lost my dad, too." The bathroom door swinging open smacks against Drake's nose. He stems the bleeding with his hand.

She feels no remorse for hurting her husband. "You think I don't know that?" Analiese shouts. She shuffles to the bed and buries her face in a pillow. Her body trembles while she weeps.

The mattress sags under her husband's weight. "You can't keep hiding in the bathroom. I thought Dr. Wheaton was helping. You know, explaining the stages of grief."

The pillow plops to the floor, and Analiese is on her feet again, far away from Drake's touch. "You're such an idiot, Drake, Not everyone grieves the same. Didn't Dr. Wheaton explain that to you?" Analiese knows what's coming next and vacillates between bracing her frame or slumping.

"Analiese—"

As he settles his hands on her shoulders, she twirls away from him again. "Just shut up, Drake. I can't stand the sound of your voice. Dad died two years ago, everyone wants me to move on. I get it. But I have no steady path within me to walk out of my grief, and back into the world. I'm hollow, Drake. I've told you a thousand times."

The bedroom wall gives way under Drake's punch. A hole. Unusual behavior that briefly catches Analiese's attention.

"This is too much for me, Analiese. You're not the woman I married." He faces her now, crying. "Tell me how to comfort you."

With her father gone, the world has changed. She's changed. "You're right. I'm not the same person you married."

"Analiese?" Drake asks. "Please talk to me. Tell me what you want, and I'll do it."

Her answer comes through hitching tears, but contrarily, her face is carved from stone. "No one can help. All I want is to be alone."

At this point, Drake knows not to touch her. "I can do that. Give you some space. Somehow. Sleep on the couch? Go stay with my brother for a while?"

The wall gives again, but less than a hole, more like a splintering when Analiese smacks it. "I embrace the pain. I never want to stop hurting, or move beyond his death."

Shocked, Drake stares at her.

Analiese says, "I want a divorce."

She spins on her heel, returns to the bathroom and locks the door. The mirror shatters and blood drips from her hand.