Chapter 6 - WHAT I PAID AND WHAT I DIDN’T
Morgause’s defense shifted.
She had provided after-school care for Eluned.
True.
Two afternoons most weeks after Eluned’s mother, Seren, died.
Seren had been killed in a highway collision eighteen months earlier.
Afterward, my work became impossible for a while.
Grief.
School pickups.
Therapy.
Bills.
I leaned on family.
Morgause said:
“I was drowning too.”
She had Cerys.
A job.
A divorce beginning.
And my child at her house.
I offered money several times.
She refused.
Family doesn’t charge family.
That sentence now made me angry.
Because later she charged Eluned in humiliation instead.
Then records.
I did pay:
Groceries sometimes.
Cerys’s activity pickup when I helped.
Shared babysitter several weekends.
But no formal childcare wage.
Could Morgause feel used?
Yes.
Did that justify making a six-year-old polish shoes before eating?
No.
Then Dad.
He had noticed the imbalance.
Three months before death, he offered Morgause $500 monthly for after-school support.
She accepted twice.
Then returned the third payment.
Why?
Text:
I’m not taking money to babysit my own niece.
Dad:
Then stop talking like she owes you.
My body went cold.
Date:
Three weeks before the Sunday incident.
Morgause:
She does need to learn gratitude.
Dad:
Gratitude is not labor.
There.
This was older than the final confrontation.
Dad had seen the philosophy developing.
Then my guilt.
Why had I not seen?
Because Morgause never acted like that around me.
She was the competent sister.
Pickup done.
Homework mostly done.
Eluned fed.
Sometimes irritable.
Nothing dramatic.
Then I remembered one night Eluned said:
“I’m tired of helping.”
I answered:
“Everyone helps Aunt Morgause.”
Did everyone?
I never checked.
Another:
“Can I eat before Cerys dance?”
I said:
“Whatever Aunt says.”
My stomach turned.
I had unknowingly reinforced her authority.
Not because I approved abuse.
Because I was tired and trusted.
Still.
I wrote those memories down.
May you like
Not to torture myself.
Because facts matter.
