Hagaas taught not to hate.
She repeated the thought in tune with her breathing, forced and careful, against the hammering of her heart and mind.
It was such a silly thing to hate someone for. Plants grew back. They weren't like people, smashed to pieces and then lost forevermore. But they weren't like clothes either; she couldn't run to the store and buy a replicate, good as new and immediately replaced. Plants needed time and care. She had spent innumerable hours among the flowers, removing weeds one at a time if she needed to, protecting them from too much sun or water, even shielding them from the last rash of frost earlier in the year.
And some asshole overnight had stomped through her flowers, tearing some out of the earth, smashing others, and definitely stealing a few. Ripped petals littered her front patio and led down to the very edge of her yard -- deliberate vandalism. Not a single plant was left untouched, though a few poor things were still standing, bared and dying in the early morning sun.
She wanted to smash them apart, break their bones and rip their clothes, leaving them to dry out in the sun. But such thoughts were unwarranted; she didn't need Hagaas to tell her that. Violence could not be justified or rectified with further violence. Death was never justice, but revenge that would haunt the murderer just as much as his victim.
He continued on to speak of understanding, and how a kind heart and loving hand would help bridge all differences. Clearly, Hagaas never had his garden smashed to pieces.
All of my characters have major problems, so I figured SOMEONE out there should be pissy over something everyday and not traumatic.
Eilís lived a pretty privileged life and I never really focus on her much, so there we have it.
, prompt "hatred".