A/N: She knows they know, but she needs it to cope. Warning for alcohol addiction.
Submission for:
10 drabbles, 10 topics challenge #3!: about a 'serious topic' - Alcohol addiction
Russian Roulette: Pansy Parkinson
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
She sees how they watch her, their gaze moving towards her out the corner of their eyes. They take in every feature, every hair and countour of her face, how she drums her fingers on the table and how she constantly watches the clock above the mantle. They know she's just waiting for this whole charade to be over, for all the scheduled laughs to be done and the meaningless banter to be traded before she can leave the table to her room.
But she is not going to her room. She will take a convenient detour through her home towards the kitchen. She knows where they keep the 'good stuff', and try as they might to change its hiding place, she always finds it.
What can she say? The amber liquid helps her, its burning down her throat distracts her from the voices which haunt her every day. It's not like it's a problem. She can stop whenever she wants, but she doesn't want to. Without it, the voices will return even louder than ever, and even her shouting won't be enough to drown them out.
"You'll never be worth anything more than dirt"
Her chair grates across the dining room floor as she stands. "May I be excused?" she asks, her head bent down so they cannot see the twitch that has developed at the corner of her mouth.
Her mother raises an eyebrow in her direction, before she gives her a disapproving stare. But then there is a dismissive wave from her father, not wanting to cause a scene in front of their guests. That's all Pansy needs before she makes a hasty retreat, her nails dragging over the exposed flesh of her arm. The gnawing feeling has begun and she can feel a thousand legs walking across her skin, but she knows how to solve this.
She makes a beeline to the kitchen.