Chapter One
My "Wonderful" Life
I sat in the hospital room with no feeling about where I was. I had been rushed to the emergency room last night because I had attempted suicide...again. The last time I had tried to OD on sleeping pills, but my "parents" had come home before I could die. This time I had tried to slit my wrists, vertically, not across, like any other moron would have done. I would have succeeded, if it wasn't for my wonderful "parents." They aren't really my parents, more like, "Sure we'll keep you! As long as that check with our money comes for keeping you ever month!" Yeah, I'm a foster child, ever since the age of seven. My parents died, they were both Aurors. They died at the hands of Voldemort, because they refused to give me to him. I don't know why he wanted me, it's not like there is anything special about me.
My name is Corrinna Rose Blackthorn, I'm 16, 5'2", a size 1, black hair that goes down to my ass, silver eyes, pale skin, and a half moon scar across my right eye. I guess you could say I would be beautiful if it weren't for that damned scar, but oh well, being beautiful is a waste of time. I would say I like it, except that it is a permanent reminder that I escaped Voldemort, and my parents didn't. I don't really remember how, but from what I was told, they sacrificed themselves for me. Told him that he could never have me, and retained my hiding place until their last breath. He tortured them to death, straight curses one after another. I don't remember where I was, all I know is that when they died I tried to run away. I don't remember who sent the curse after me, but I turned around right as it slashed me across the eyes, thus giving me the scar I still have today, 9 years later. After that, I do not know what happened, someone must have saved me, or else I would be dead.Yes, I know I'm a witch, but no I do not attend a magical school, as one would expect. The family I live with are not wizards, but muggles. Which explains my unmagical ways of suicide attempts. They do not let me attend school because they say they can't afford it, which is probably true since they spend all of the money sent for me, on beer and drugs. Nora is addicted to cocaine, and Ben is an achololic. They are the wonderful loving "parents" I have lived with for the past five years. The other four I was in an orphanage. So I guess you would wonder how I know what to call unmagical people, and about Voldemort if I do not attend a magical school. This is because of my neighbor, a kind old lady, retired from the Ministry Of Magic, who teaches me almost everything I need to know. I do not have a wand, I use hers. She knew my parents, Alissa and Thomas Blackthorn, fore she went to school with them. A place call Hogwarts.
My thoughts are innteruppted as a doctor walks in, to check the IV they must have stuck in my arm when I was asleep. They are giving me blood, though if I had it my way, it would be sucking out the blood I did not succeed in getting rid of last night.
"Why do you do this to yourself? This is the second time you have been in here for a suicide attempt, and both times failed. It's as if you want to be caught," Dr. Smith spoke for the first time of me meeting him. I just looked at him, did he honestly expect me to answer? I don't speak much, and I have a dislike of being around many people.
He finally realizes that I am not going to respond to his stupid question, and continues speaking himself. He says that I can leave today, after the IV empties, but he doesn't want to see me in here again anytime soon. He also tells me that he has spoken to my parents about getting me an appointment with a therapist, and that they are willing to do whatever it takes to make me "better." I almost laugh at him because he obviously doesn't know Nora and Thomas Shepkle. I know exactly what they are going to do when I get home. Beat me and send me to my room without food for the next three days or so. I just looked at the doctor, wondering why he is wasting his time on a girl that might as well already be dead. Sometimes I wish I was, at least then I would be with my parents...
Just then Nora and Thomas walked in the room, fake smiles on their faces'. I knew I was in trouble now. I still had bruises from the last time I displeased them, because I was listening to my music too loudly. Though they were just really looking for a reason to take out their anger and failure on me. I barely felt it anymore when they beat me. But I guess that isn't anything to brag about.
"So Doctor, when do we get to take her home?" Nora asked the doctor with a fake cheery voice and smile. When she looked at me, there was disgust written all over her face. I would never be anything more to her than a check every month and one big pain in the ass. She was the same to me, minus the check.
The doctor smiled at her and answered, "Well, she can go home now, her IV has finished, and there is no other reason to keep her here. Did you think about my advice on getting her a therapist?"
"Of course we have! We only want the best for our little girl!" spoke Thomas, for the first time, in a voice that was so fake I'd rather throw up than listen to.
"Well then, since she doesn't have any possessions to check out, she can leave right now. It was nice meeting two such caring parents, I don't see how she could do this to you."
The doctor was obviously against me.
Nora and Thomas smiled and then Thomas made it look like he was helping me out of the bed, when he was really squeezing my arm as hard as he could. I tried hard not to wince.
As the doctor left the room, so did my foster parents' smiles.
The ride home was silent, and I was waiting for when they would explode. They hadn't said a word to me since they checked me out of the hospital. I knew they were going to get really abusive this time, there was no doubt about it. They were probably angrier about the fact that I wasn't dead when they found me. To be honest, I don't know why they even bothered helping me, most likely for the check. If that stopped coming, then they would have to spend the bill money on their addictions. I was prepared for yelling and screaming when we reached our "home," but that isn't what happened. Yes, I was sent to my room without food, and told that if I so much as made a sound I would be in the hospital for more serious injuries than slit wrists. I was confused as to why the beating hadn't commenced yet, but I didn't stick around to find out.
Instead I walked down the stairs into the basement, which was also my room. It was mostly black, my favorite color. I went and sat down on my bed, not making any kind of noise, dreading what I knew had to happen. To pass time I got out my new book called, Quidditch Through The Ages, and read until my eyes got bleary and I feel asleep.
Around 3am, I shot awake, because someone had slammed open my door. It was Thomas...and he was drunk. He didn't look happy. I didn't know what he was going to do in his rage, I was actually scared for my life. I didn't know if I could survive tonight's beating.
When he looked at me, there was something in his eyes the scared me, badly. Rage and lust, not a good combination. I tried to mold myself against the wall, without any luck. He stalked towards me, and before he even said a world, he slapped me across the face. My neck snapped to the side, I felt like I was going to throw up. Before I had any time to even take a breath, the beating started. He hit me everywhere, sparing no parts of my body. I couldn't fight it, I was no match for him. If I even resisted a little bit, he just hit twice as hard.
"Filthy little bitch! You should be glad that we accept you into our house! Stupid little whore, I'll make you pay!" and then, then he raped me. I tired to push him off of me, and I wished desperately for a wand, but I didn't have one. I screamed, and he slapped me again. I feel unconscious, and don't remember anything else.
Waking up with the sun, I found that I could barely move, and that it hurt to breath. With much difficulty, I pulled myself to my feel. I looked down and saw that I was almost naked, my clothes ripped and torn. I was bleeding everywhere, cuts, welts, and bruises were what took the place of my skin. And most of all, I felt dirty, filthy, like the things he had called me. I hated myself, as I had never before. I reached up and felt to see if he had ripped out my rings, and was very surprised to feel that they were still in place, although very sore.
Going and standing in front of my full length mirror, I was shocked at the way I looked. Almost every part of my body had cuts and bruises covering them. I would have tried a healing spell, but I had no wand, and I was much too weak. I would have to visit Mrs. Kettle again soon.
My eyes dull, looking more gray than silver, and my complexion was almost gray as well. There was an angry red circle around my eyebrow ring, looking much like someone had tried to pull it out and was unsucessfull. Same for my belly button ring, all 18 earrings, and my lip ring. I stuck out my tongue, a painful action, and saw that both piercings there were fine. I had figured he would have ripped out every piercing I had, and I was very surprised he hadn't, fore he had tried to forbid to get them, and I had ignored his wishes and got them done anyway.
I couldn't bare to look at myself anymore, self loathing taking over, and becoming the only emotion I felt. I colapsed to the floor, and cried, cried because I was in pain, mental, physical, and emotional, and for what I had lost, and never had.
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Thanks for reading, r&r would be nice, but not vital. Hope you enjoyed it! Till next time!
