"No, I'm not. This isn't the Middle Ages where men take care of the women. Where I would be nothing but a damsel in distress. I've been taking care of myself since I was nine and I've done it without you." It's not that she didn't want his support but one day she was bound to royally fuck up. To get in a situation that she couldn't get out of and it wasn't his job to fix her. He didn't deserve that guilt. "You should have looked but you didn't. We still lived." This time.
"Fred. His name was Fred," she said sharply, her voice losing its cold emptiness and filling with anger. "Don't you get sick of no one talking about him? Because I sure as hell fucking do. Fred wouldn't be afraid of a name. Instead everyone walks around eggshells when it comes to him. He died so we could live and we're wasting it. Wasting his memory. I'm so fucking sick of it."
Okay, she couldn't even begin to fathom losing a relationship like George had with Fred but he had been her best friend too. She had also lost her mum. You got over it. Most seemed to do it by avoiding their memory like a plague but it was such bullshit. "We all die. We all get lost. We all move on. Once you figure that out your life will be a lot less scared."