Always Angry

Petunia Dursley was always angry.

She wore calm like a well-pressed blouse, but beneath it seethed a storm no one dared suspect.

It lived inside her—a tight, pulsing knot of voices, memories, regrets.

Mostly bad ones.

She cooked, cleaned, smiled, but that fury fed on itself, growing heavier each day.

Sometimes, she’d glance at the drawer where Vernon kept his gun, and the thought would flicker—terrible and fleeting.

What if calm wasn’t enough?

What if one day the mask cracked, and the beast she'd buried struck out?

Petunia feared that day more than anything.

But it was coming.