Another Wednesday in pieces
by Lotte
Disclaimer: i own nothing
xxx
The voice screamed shaply and clearly, and he threw his head back just to fit the cliché, laughing and crying and screaming along with her. He was a nameless character, and the child was only a scream to make the hatred, the defining of such evil go a little deeper.
She reads too much fantasy; but she knew all the scientific explanations for such escapism. She thought the authors used bitterness a little too lightly; for bitterness was vile and disgusting, vomit and salty fluids. Whispering it poetically and flowing was uneducated. It was pronouncing a word wrong and not ending up dizzy and clotting a few hours later.
Hermione does not flinch in such an awkward position in the bathroom stall. The light is broken, flickering, attracting moths. The books sit unaware, lost in their own world, as she greets her dawn with sleepless eyes and bloodied hands.
xxx
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