Frozen in place, Glimmer watched her daughter’s frame grow smaller and smaller, as if someone were taking her away. Leading her astray. But they weren't. Amethyst was the one who refused to listen. This was her doing. Glimmer couldn’t breathe, sucking in the air in shaky gasps, her mind whirring with frustration and grief. And yet, around the edges, self-disgust, the condescending mind that told her it wasn't the toddler's fault. It was her own. Even her own kid didn’t want to be with her.
Agonising minutes passed, Glimmer trapped in a state of panic and helplessness, eyes unmoving from where her daughter had disappeared from view, as if she’d suddenly reappear. But of course she wouldn’t. Why would she? Time slowed, Glim’s vision blurring. Hands pulled at her hair, fingernails digging into her legs, the only way she could emote her deep discomfort. She couldn’t even scream for attention, throat closed up, mouth dry. An eternity seemed to pass before she saw a figure entering the skyline, coming into view. Two figures. Instantly, Glimmer breathed, air filling her lungs, letting out the sob that had been crushing her. Marvel was there. Their hero.
Able to move now, her knees gave out, collapsing back onto the park bench as she gasped for breath. Seeing Marvel had filled her with relief. If he was there, everything with Amethyst would be okay. She was no longer alone with the responsibility. Once she’d seen his expression, however, that relief was instantly swallowed up by shame. He was angry. Of course he was angry, because once again, she’d failed at being a parent, and Marvel had to pick up the slack. Unable to answer his question, or rather, not wanting to, she shook her head, looking down, tears escaping. Eyeing their daughter beside him, she considered reaching out, to check if she was okay, but didn’t. The fear of her daughter screaming like she had before halted her in place. For a moment, resentment again filled her gaze.
With no answer, Marvel changed tack, tone shifting, a hand finding Glimmer’s chin. Almost immediately, her resistance faltered, finally meeting his gaze, the anger gone from her eyes. She was terrified to voice her truth, but felt she had no choice now, not when she’d fucked up like this. “She hates me,” she whispered, almost unable to be heard, also afraid that her daughter might even overhear and confirm it. She didn’t want it to be true, but she believed it was, and for Marvel’s sake, it broke her heart. His love and care for their daughter was effortless — he was perfect at it, as was his relationship with her. But Glimmer struggled with it everyday, especially over the last few months, and yet had almost nothing to show for her efforts. “I don’t know what to do about it. Nothing works. It’s - all my fault.”
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