Right, this is my first fanfiction, and this fanfiction means a lot to me, so please, if you're going to hate, at least be nice with your citicism. Cheers. (: -SammieMxox
I'm trying to scream, choking back tears, begging her to stop, begging her to remove her hands from my throat. She stares at me with an evil gleam in her eyes, her hair wild, her lips stretched into an ugly grin. She doesn't realise it, but she loves hurting people, especially me. I don't even recognise her; she's changed from the woman I look up to into an evil monster. I gasp for breath, but I'm losing consciousness. As I stare at this woman, my heart thumps. I can't hurt her back for two reasons, the first being that I'm only 7 years old. And the second reason? She's my mother.
I wake up from my dream, tears pouring down my cheeks. I breathe in and out, trying to calm myself from the terrible memory. "Calm down Hermione, it's only a dream, she won't hurt you anymore" but as I say that to myself, I wish it was true. Just last week, during an argument, she slammed a door into my head. Two months before that, she punched me in the arm, causing a bruise to come up for at least a week. I took a picture of it, so I have evidence if she really does go mental at me again. As a fifteen year old girl, I shouldn't be scared of anything. I'm in the peak of my life, with a fantastic boyfriend and a few friends at school. But yet whenever I'm anywhere near my mother, I'm cautiously tiptoeing around her, trying not to start another argument. Yet whenever I do stand up for myself, she would always follow me into my bedroom and carry on, causing me, with my huge anger issues, to retaliate, and therefore get myself into a worse situation than before.
I shake myself out of the memories, reminding myself that I have to get ready to go to school. School... My only salvation. The place where I could be me, hidden beneath books in the libraries, reading to my hearts content about stories about pretty, misunderstood girls, with little problems, like how people didn't like her. "if only they realised what it was really like to have someone hate you" I would whisper to the characters in the books. They always got the perfect, beautiful boyfriends as well, always fallen in love. I thought I had too. A boy called Viktor. Viktor Krum, to be exact. At the start, he was pretty much my best friend. Then we started getting into situations. He would come round when he wanted to have sex, never just to see me. We were never boyfriend and girlfriend, I was just his sex toy, nothing but a human to him.
I'm at his house, in a dark room with nothing but a sofa and cluttered junk around it. I came round to talk to him, to try and be friends and we'd fallen out previously before. I was just standing by the wall, feeling awkward, when he came from nowhere. He pushed me up against the wall. Started kissing me roughly, hurting my lips. he unzipped his trousers. I tried to push him away, to tell him no, but he ignored me. He tried to put his hand up my skirt, but he didn't do it like he cared about me, he forced it there roughly, like he just wanted one thing from me. And I guess he did. He was so strong, I couldn't push him off of me, until a burst of energy hit me, once I realised what he was going to do. I pushed him with all my might, enough for me to wriggle out of the small gap I had created, I seized my bag, which had fallen to the floor, and ran out of the back gate, and to safety.
Another memory from someone who wanted to hurt me. Another memory to add to the bundle of darkness around my mind. Another night, another dream, another memory.