"Please. It isn't about YE controlling me, god, why do ye..." she stopped and sighed, cutting her hand through the air, "This is nonsense. Horse shit, all of it." She took the teacup, and threw it in frustration, causing it to shatter on the wall and tea splashing the wall and dribbling to the floor into a puddle. She started walking back and forth as everything finally just blew up and cried out, "God.... damn it," she cursed for the first time in her life in such a way. She had never used the Lord's name in such a way.

She moved to clean up the mess she made, careful with the porcelain. One thing she could never get back that Harold had given her. She knelt to sweep up the small shards that couldn't be picked up. She held the dust pan aloft for a moment, then dropped it and sank to her butt on the floor, her head bowing. Shoulders began to shake violently as sobs of someone who felt very broken at the moment seemed to try and overtake her. "Just... go..." Came words that were almost too quiet, broken up by the little gasps. This was clearly not a tantrum she was throwing, this was the pure, unadulterated and mostly held back grief. She didn't look at him, couldn't, shame washing through her for her lack of control over the chasm of hurt within her. It was like the gaping maw of a deep, dark cave and she was descending into the depths.

Karen managed to pick up the dust pan again and moved to dump the contents into the bin, fingers shaking in such a way that the pan trembled too, face white, eyes starting to look faraway and her knuckles whitening with the effort to keep the pan steady.