Nanowrimo 2020 Day 22 - Word Count and Favorite Bit (Patreon)

Today I added 2443 words to Match.God, bringing my current total word count to 45, 664!

“Hannah?”

She hummed in acknowledgement, noting the use of her American name this time.

“I’m sorry.”

She turned her gaze on her father, disbelief evident on her face if her father’s uncomfortable expression was anything to go on.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I know I’ve not been exactly supportive of you. I know I let Mother do so many things that I should have stopped. I know I should have understood how you felt that night in Italy. And I know this is probably a little too late, but I am sorry. For everything.”

Hannah felt her stomach and heart trade places. How was she supposed to respond to that? Did he expect her to forgive him, after all this time? Did he want a pat on the back for apologizing now that there wasn’t someone breathing down his neck? Hannah wasn’t even sure she felt like forgiving him.

The steadiness of her own voice surprised her when she finally spoke. “I am your daughter. You’re my father. As my father, you are supposed to protect me. You’re supposed to support me. You never did. Grandmother walked all over Mom and I, and you just let it happen. No, more than that, you relished in it.”

“Hannah…”

“Don’t fucking interrupt me!”

Hannah surprised herself with her own viciousness. If the way her father swerved was any indication, he hadn’t expected it either. It was a miracle that they didn’t end up in a crash.

“You aren’t getting out of this. You don’t get to redirect anymore. You don’t get to tell me I’m wrong. Not right now.” Hannah felt her chest tighten around her lungs, fear and reckless abandon warring in her body, leaving her limbs shaking and her eyes blurry with tears. “You failed us, Dad. You failed mom, and you failed me. You let grandmother get away with treating us with shit. Why? Because you were scared? Or because you liked us being quiet and obedient like Good Women? How do you think we felt?

“And now you think you can apologize and make everything okay? It’s not okay, Dad! And it probably won’t ever be. I felt better about myself living with the literal incarnation of death than I did in all the years I lived at home with you and Grandmother. So you can say sorry all you want, but I will never forgive you for what you failed to do.”

Silence fell over the car once more, and Hannah suddenly felt like she’d said too much. Like she’d done everything wrong. She felt cold, and scared. She couldn’t look at her father, or the city out the window. Her gaze stayed firmly on her knees.

“You’re not even sad that’s she’s gone, are you?”

“I don’t know how I feel,” she admitted quietly. “She hated me, and I can’t say I didn’t feel the same about her.”

“Hannah, she didn’t hate you. She loved you.”

“No, dad. She loved who she wanted me to be. Otherwise she wouldn’t have done what she did.”

“She just wanted you to be happy.”

“And she made me feel the exact opposite.” Hannah glared down at her knees. “Why are you even still defending her? It’s not like she’s around to snap at you anymore.”

“You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

“When else am I allowed to air my grievances?” Hannah demanded. “I couldn’t get a word in when she was alive and now I can’t say anything now that she’s dead? Sounds like a rigged system to me.”

Her father sighed, sounding tired and defeated. “I suppose it is.”