Not On The Same Page

It just happened.
Aswan couldn't physically control the sheer wave of rage that traveled up her throat, hissing, seething, almost boiling. It just happened. She was on her feet (though she couldn't remember how she'd hopped up that fast). A can flew across the room, slamming into the wall behind her bed. Not a dent, which somehow angered Aswan even more. She could have no sway, never, not at all, hm? Not a dent in the wall, not a word she uttered was listened to, not a thing she did was ever enough to affect the world. Her fists stayed quite stiff and they were trembling and now the words were coming out, oh god the words. She knew as soon as she said them that there would be no stopping them and she knew they would be the ugliest words she'd said to him. And that made her want to scream more.
So it just... happened.
"Who are you," she started, very quietly, with a fiery look in her eye, "to tell me what I can and cannot do. I am not an IDIOT, Roland. Do you not think I haven't tried every possible way - myself? I don't let other people get in the way of what I need to accomplish, even with good intentions! I have done everything I can think of. Everything! And I doubt that even you could help me. Unlike you," she spat, "I have confidence in my own work. I can get it to work, I KNOW. And I DON'T. NEED. YOU. INTERFERING. Those idiots of the past don't know what I know now. So, if you would, STOP TRYING TO HELP ME!"
Silence.
Silence so suffocating.
Silence so suffocating that the trembling of her wrists - no, of her whole body - slowly stopped, then intensified. She hadn't meant a word of that.... But...
It almost looked as if she was collapsing in on herself; the way she covered her mouth, the way she bent down, the completely miserable look on her face. She hadn't meant it.
And yet, every time she went to apologize, the voices - those damned voices! - convinced her each time that her point was solid. That she was right. She opened her mouth... and closed it.
Opened it. A squeak came out, as she shut it again. No matter how much she tried, she could not, for the life of her, apologize, though her very life wanted to.

@Saber

And all she could do was squeak. A faint, powerless, helpless sound. No words could come back to her - it was like she'd had the wind knocked out of her. She really didn't want to let him leave... but after her outburst, there was nothing she could do. She'd snapped; the stress was all put on him and there was nothing she could do about the sad, sad eyes that looked into hers now and the pain in the young mage's voice was almost tangible.
She'd screwed up, put crudely. Ruined a blessing. She'd dropped the ball. She'd fallen short. She'd failed. The synonyms for what she'd done attacked Aswan - they were just words, right?
So why did they hurt so much?
"R....Rol..." Aswan finally managed to squeak, but he was already kissing the top of her head and turning to leave, and that hit like a bullet. Just more evidence of what she'd done. She'd hurt him. She'd hurt him so badly, too badly, much too badly. He was gone before she could even apologize. Even the way he left - she'd expected him to get angry at her, but the intense disappointment was that much more crushing. And yet he still loved her.
Why?
Staring at the can she'd thrown in a blind rage, she gingerly picked it up, examining it. Upon closer inspection, there were a few dents in the can itself, where it had hit the wall-mounted bookshelf. They looked to be deeper than she'd seen when she'd thrown it. Aswan supposed that was some sort of ironic metaphor or something. Whatever, it didn't matter.
Returning to her studies was the only way. And she'd drown herself in it, to keep from feeling this terrible feeling.