It had been almost a year. Three hundred and sixty days since Esper's father died. Three hundred and sixty days of seeing her mother tear herself apart, watching her do anything to bring him back, watching her hate herself more and more. Three hundred and sixty days of disappointment after disappointment, of letters to old colleagues asking for assistance, of kneeling over a corpse and hoping that this time, it would work. It would work and this would all be over.
It wouldn't be over, though. Esper knew that. Even if her mother managed to bring him back, she had changed, torn herself apart in attempt after attempt. Nothing could happen that would make things go back to normal.
Esper didn't even want her father back, at this point.
She stared blankly at her nightstand, sitting stiffly on her teal comforter. Her gaze snagged on a photo, framed and sitting on her nightstand. The glass was dusty. The photo was of them, her mother, father, and herself, the day Esper cast her first spell.
Tears blurred her vision, and her throat tightened. She had been so determined to do something magical, running around pretending to cast spells ever since she could walk. She spent countless nights asking her mom a million questions, how do you feel the magic? What does it feel like? Does it feel like when you rub your feet on the rug and your fur stands on end? When did you cast your first spell? Can I look at your spellbook?
Will I grow up to be like you?
Her first spell was the same that most people manage first - prestidigitation. They had all gone outside for a picnic, and Esper spent the entire time trying to make a rock glow, much to her parents amusement. She was determined, though, and on that day, she felt the flow of magic for the first time.
When she managed to do it, she didn't believe it at first. Then she ran to her parents, holding the rock, shouting and smiling as wide as she could. Her father had beamed at her, lifting her over his head so she could show the little glowing rock to the whole world, his eyes twinkling with pride and love. Her mother was smiling too, almost as excited as Esper was, standing next to them and holding her arms out in case Esper fell from her father's arms, worried but proud.
That moment was immortalized in the photo, a small little Esper held up high in her father's arms, holding a little rock that glowed a distinct teal, her mother smiling up at the two of them and worriedly making sure Esper didn't get hurt.
Esper let out a choked laugh, smiling at the photo as tears rolled down her cheeks.
That was almost seventeen years ago.
She wanted her family back, more than anything in the world. The people in this photo no longer existed, and her chest ached from the fact - she was confident it was a fact - that they would never come back. Not her father, and not her mother, either.
Esper couldn't make out the photo anymore, through the tears in her eyes. She looked away, staring at the floor angrily, and a tear fell onto the floor, followed by a second, and a third, as she let out choked sobs.
She couldn't go on like this.
She couldn't watch her mother lose herself more and more, watch her shatter her own self confidence, watch her be the "necessary evil" so Esper could have some semblance of a life. She wanted her life back more than anyone, but she knew this was only destroying it, piece by piece. She didn't have any happy memories anymore. They had all been tarnished by the last year, torn apart and twisted until it hurt to touch them. Remembering anything only made things worse.
Her mother would never forgive herself, though. She already didn't. Esper couldn't put more weight on her shoulders.
She let herself sob quietly until she was tired, and her thoughts were a hazy mess of sadness and anger. Tears eventually stopped coming as she wore herself out, and sobs became only shaky breaths.