"You Lonesome Shit! I could have you arrested!" He yelled. Like he always did. Hs voice was never lowered. Always raised and the most hurtful it could ever be. I sat in the wooden chair, tears streaming down my cheeks. I was being forced to listen, to watch, to hate. Before I could even think, the back of his hand collided with my cheek and knocked me from the chair. I laid flat on the side of my face and didn't bother getting up for I knew, it would all happen again. "You fucking whore, get up right now!" He placed his foot on my back making me incapable of lifting any part of myself from the cold floor. The cold dark tile was stinging my hot cheek. The blood drained from my face and I lost all feeling in my legs. He brought his foot to my neck and pressed even harder. The pressure was surely unbearable. I could only think of how I shouldn't have ran. I shouldn't have run away. Being in this horrible place with my horrible father. All on our own, was what I was destined to be.
I was never aloud to finish my years at Beauxbaton. I was to stay and accommodate my father's every need. "I said, get up right now!" He yelled once more, this time removing his foot, all the feeling of the pain rushing to my neck. I wiped dirt from my neck and stood tall and faced him, but never looked in his dark eyes. Once again, his hand made contact with my face. I didn't fall this time. He only scratched me. "You will listen to me!" He claimed, taking another swig of his whiskey. He set the bottle on the edge of the table and went to turn away but the bottle fell and made a mess on the floor. He placed his hand on the nape of my neck and pushed me to my knees. "Clean this shit up right now you little slut! Then take your ass to bed!" He yelled storming from the kitchen and that's when I heard the front door, slam shut.
I took a garbage back and a sponge and started retrieving the broken glass from the floor. "Ow!" I said when I cut my finger, the blood rushing to my palm. I wrapped it in my shirt and continued to pick up the pieces with my other hand. I wiped up the alcohol and threw away everything. The bag, the sponge, and my shirt. I rinsed all the blood in the bathroom sink and walked to the basement. I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling for a bit. My father was a muggle. Just pure human being. My mother was all that she could be and more. She was the witch. She was a damn good witch at that. She knew what she was doing and never had a single regret. Except Marrying Lawrence Fischer Gray. A heartless man with a drinking and gambling problem.
When my mother was alive, she had tried everything in the book to get my father to stop his problems. She tried therapy, interventions, banning him from his daily activities, but every time, it only ended in abuse and screaming. My mothers name was Faith Hayleigh Landerson. She is the spitting image of a goddess. She had hair of pure golden satin and had eyes of the most delicious chocolate brown. Her skin was always soft and beautifully light. She was tall and always smiled like nothing was ever wrong. She always had a knack for showing off but she did it like everything was okay. I loved my mother. I still do. Visiting her grave is something I love to do. I miss her more than anything in the world. She always knew how to make me much happier when my father would make me feel saddened. My father is a handsome man, when he's sober, anyway. He was not always what he is now. He once was so successful. We once had a happy family. But then my mom had lost poor little Tailor.
Tailor was my little sister. She was born when I was just fifteen. It was the happiest day of our lives. My mother and father, finally had the life that they hoped for. Two baby girls and they were a happily married couple. One particular day though, my mom was walking Tailor to the babysitter, but then the man with the dark cloak saw her. He originally had no interest in Tailor, more for my mom. But the man had no morals, so what could I say? My mom was dressed nicely and he knew that meant money. He didn't care if there was debt to be paid or if it was gift, that meant, that someone, somewhere, in our family, had some money. So on a busy street, he yelled at the top of his lungs "Help! Help! That women took my child!" quickly after that had been spoken, two men, took my mothers arms and held her tight. The man took Tailor and ran. My mom's hysterical screams could be heard across the globe. When she broke free from the two men, she ran as fast as she could. When she realized that she would never make it, she fell to her knees, and cried.
Later that night, the police set up an investigation to find Tailor. The kidnapper had called at least ten times, Asking for a ransom, of over $100,000 dollars. My mother couldn't come up with the money in the time limit that the kidnapper had set. So he set up a video camera, and drowned Tailor, in the bathtub. Every second of that horrific video, made everyone in the room, feel tense, scared, and like there was never going to be any hope, ever again. My mom and dad cried every night, every evening, and every morning. They never slept, they never ate. My dad started drinking, my mom never left the house. My father started gambling. My mom never let me from her sight. One night, my father came home, with a blood lust. He had taken my mother by the wrist, and slammed her head into the wall, until her nose bled or until it broke. Eventually my mother had gotten sick. She couldn't leave her bed.
My father never found that to be a good excuse to stop. He would drag her down the stairs and into the kitchen, and place her hand on the hot burner, until she agreed to cook him some breakfast. My mother died when I was sixteen. Almost two years ago. My home grew dark. The walls went cryptic. Every room looked as if it were a cemetery. My room was the only light, and it was in the basement. My dad never touched Tailor's room. It had remained the day it did when my mother took her for the walk. I went into tailor's room several times. I never touched anything. I only went in, to listen to a sound, that didn't exist anymore. I remember my mother's laughter when Tailor would laugh at my Mom's silly faces. I remember the little tune that the radio played when Tailor was to take her nap.
I remember the creaking of the rocking chair when my mom would sing Tailor to sleep herself. I would imagine every sound, that was now, invisible. I turned on my side and looked out my window. The sky was only a dark shade of blue. The sun was setting on my opposite side. Everything was quiet and everything was still. I could hear the sound of the water running through the pipes behind me. I could hear the pitter-patter of the rain, on my windowsill. I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like if my father was still the loving, caring man that he was, before the death of my sister. I drifted off to sleep and awoke five hours later, when my father came home. The door slammed violently and I could hear him stumbling up the stairs. He was mumbling to himself and slammed his door shut. I ran to the vent and removed it so that I could what he was saying. "Low-life...Shit...Good for nothing…" I placed my ear closer and heard my father ripping something open. The silence was unbearable as he was reading over every line of whatever he was reading.
"What the hell is Hogwarts?!?" He yelled. I could hear him crumble the paper and throw it against the wall. Then I heard him shuffle in his bed. Surely in twenty minutes, he would be dead asleep. When I was sure that that time had passed, I slowly opened my fathers door, a quiet creak was all that welcomed me. The room was dark and shadows danced when I closed the door behind me. I took slow strides to find my way to the vent and used my hands to feel around where I was going. My fathers room smelled musty and highly of alcohol. I bent down at the vent and found a crumbled paper and put it in my pocket. My father moved and I froze. I held my breath and stared at the darkness, hoping my father wouldn't emerge. He merely snorted and quickly fell back to sleep. I let my breath out and felt my cheeks get hot. I made my way back to my room and unfolded the letter. I read and read again. I flipped through pages to see if it was joke but this letter was my escape. It read:
Dear Samantha Gray,
You are gradually invited to enroll in Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. Your poor attendance and low grades have dismissed you from Beauxbatons for witches and you will be attending our school for your last year of your magical education. You will be staying with a Hogwarts Family until the end of summer. Someone will be sent to retrieve you and your belongings. Be sure to note your family of these festivities and say your goodbyes. Enclosed is a list of materials that you will need for the upcoming school year. Thank you for your time.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbedore
Albus Dumbledore Headmaster,
AD
Enclosure
I couldn't have been more happy to receive such a letter in my life. I knew that I was going to a school that had boys and girls but it was a school, miles away. That meant an escape from my homicidal father. I tucked the letter in my pillow case and pulled the blankets over my chest and laid down my head and closed my eyes. Before I slept that night, I had one thing happen to me that hadn't happened in several years. Something that made everything feel as if it were going to look up. For the first time in two years, I, Samantha Faith Gray, Smiled.
