Bill silently felt like it was good. Charlie was getting angry, which meant he could be angry. He just wanted to be angry and shout and yell until he didn't have a voice. He wanted to break everything in his house. He wanted everything to be the way he felt. Bill glared at the table, willing it to break, but it didn't.
"Oh, and that's just brilliant, Charlie," he spat back. "Are you telling me that you'd have wanted to be around everyone after waking up and finding out the person you loved was dead...and your brother...and that you couldn't even do anything for yourself? EVERYTHING FELT LIKE I WAS BEING SET ON FIRE, CHARLIE!" Every movement had hurt, nothing had felt right. He couldn't be okay. The fact that Charlie said he didn't know what to do, made him angry. Charlie knew what to do. No. He had to have known. Even Ginny had known. "THEN TAKE FUCKING LESSONS FROM GINNY!"
He ignored all the comments about Katie. He didn't care. She wasn't his family, so right now, he didn't give a shit. He tensed up more when Charlie was close to him and his hands shook. "I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO ACT LIKE I DO, CHARLIE! YOU SHOULD KNOW! I KNOW! DIDN'T YOU FEEL IT?! OR HAVE YOU FUCKING FORGOTTEN ABOUT THAT, TOO?!"
Bill's eyes dropped to his knees again and he tried to keep his body from shaking. "Don't you realize that you're my George, Charlie?" His voice was small. "I know when you're hurt...when something wrong. Even now." He reached out to him, fingers trying to hold onto Charlie's shirt, but his hands were shaking too much. "And now I can't...I can't...nothing. I can't hold onto anything and you can't remember..."