“You get it now? I’m not your family, so you can give up now. Leave me the hell alone! I know you’ve been wanting to kick me out for years, so here’s your chance. Stop acting like you give a shit anymore and just f—-!”

The resounding crack of Zasia’s open palm on his face snuffed out Aldric’s rage like a torch dunked in water. He wasn’t even totally sure of what had happened until the hot, stinging sensation started growing in his cheek and neck. She’d really put everything she had into that.

Zasia had lectured him, nagged him, and screamed at him countless times over the years. He’d strained her patience nearly to its breaking point frequently, almost daily. He was ashamed to admit he’d made her cry before, too.

But in the lifetime that he’d known her, she had never once hit him in anger.

Zasia stood tall, a fiery glare leveled at him through her tears. She only whispered, but with a fierce venom in her voice. “She was my friend too, Aldric. You’re not the only one who lost someone. But since you seem to think the world, and everyone in it, only exists to make you miserable, fine. Just... fine.”

An inner struggle played out in her eyes for several moments, before her gaze finally cooled and grew determined. “If you want to wallow in a puddle of misery for the rest of your life, then on your head be it. I tried. I really tried. And clearly failed. Gods forbid I give you even more reason to hate your life, so... good luck to you. Whoever you are.”

Ever the proper lady, she gathered herself, turned gracefully on her heel, and left without another word. The complete silence that followed made Aldric’s ears ring as he stood there, stupidly staring at the closed door.

He had trouble breathing as his emotions fought a war in his chest. Anger won out, just like it always did. He turned sharply and whipped the rum bottle across the room, shattering it against the stone wall, before he kicked the desk hard enough to splinter it.

Breathing erratically, he dug his rum crate out of the stack of his belongings. He still had unpacked nothing; why put down roots when he knew that this would never work out? Finding exactly what he was looking for, he ripped another bottle out of the crate and uncorked it, guzzling the contents.

As usual, the taste was absent, just like when he tried to eat or drink anything nowadays. It churned in his guts something awful, but he kept at it. Whatever made him forget, whatever made the dreams stop, he didn’t care. If he could still feel, then he hadn’t drunk enough yet.