A/N: This is most likely going to be the most… intense DLS chapter, simply because it is the most personal. So, uh, you've been warned.
Dirty Little Secret: Dominique
I grip my broomstick firmly, text book style, perfected after years. The contrast between the wood and my pale, clammy hands is so bright that I am half waiting for my ghosts to drift over for a closer look. There are cheers and murmurs of talking around me as the Burrow gets ready for the usual Sunday family Quidditch game.
As soon as I am in the air, I know this is a bad idea. The world sways and little spasms and squiggles race to my heart. The part of my brain that hasn't been warped against my body screams for me to go back down, go to Grandma. Go to where she can feed me and stuff me until my body becomes filled with treacle and fudge and meatballs and butterbeer and pumpkin juice and other yummy things that make my ears pop. This voice is immediately turned off when I see Mama.
Mama is Fleur, carved into a perfect shiny Lady, prettythinskinnyslim. She was ripped out of wood and bone marrow and tempered with water and intimidation until she became the perfect fire breathing witch for daring William Arthur Weasley. Victoire is Daddy's princess, and Louis makes Mama so proud by being the perfect handsome funny bloke of every girl's dreams.
I am caught in between, floating in between, where our worlds collide. They say I am shiny and pretty and perfect and new with my small mouse body, but I know better. They are all morons. They don't see the icky yellow bubbles of fat under my skin, threatening to burst and explode so everyone can see the evil ugliness.
In my haze, I go back to when I was perfect - so fucking perfect that I was a bright light bulb in a cage for all the world to see. My world was filled with daises and sunshine and butter, White dresses, dancing in the rain and singing with mocking birds. And then, somehow, the little wisps of smoke and spirit and soul invaded me, ripping and slashing in me until my eyes were forced open, chipping and chipping and chipping until I could finally see the truth.
My thoughts are shattered by Roxanne's shriek, My vision warps to the sight of James and Louis and Fred zooming on their brooms towards me, faces on angryfire and eyes full of scaredyice. Tiny eggshell screams echo in my head as shadow hands hold me tight, covering my eyes.
/::big/wind/rip/crash::/
The first thing I see when the hands finally release me is Mama's perfect, anxious face, next to my immortal Grandma who worries about everything. And then it is Auntie Katie, who is not really my auntie, but is close enough to be one. She quickly becomes Healer Wood, gently pushing Grandma and Mama out of the way. I am lucky that it is a Burrow Sunday because Healer Wood doesn't have her entire health check kit of doom in the living room. She is only able to tell everyone that I fainted from lightheadedness because I didn't eat breakfast.
Wrongwrongwrong. I don't remember eating [a proper] breakfast, dinner or lunch. I am keeping my mouse body small from Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and tiny whisper sips of pumpkin juice. My jaws hurt so bad it's hard to talk and my stomach curls at the very thought of pumpkin juice, but soon it'll be worth it. I'll be worth it. Everyone else is like a muggle Merry-go-round horse, eyes painted to what they want to see. They think tree trunks are saplings. Idiots.
Then, Louis and James and Fred are back, their expressions funeral appropriate. They have something in their hands. It is my broomstick, eight years old, with the word 'Firebolt' only fading a little. I cringe because even though I am not a Ravenclaw, I know this is bad. I am slightly scared- I never lived with the concept of no fear, like a Gryffindor. I am not a Hufflepuff, I can't see my mistake.
Daddy comes in and everyone hushes. His face is so paper pale that the scars from the slashes Fenrir Greyback gave him all those years ago stand out vivid. He looks at me and then sees the broom before Fred and James and Louis can cover it up. Now everybody winces. Daddy rages at me for half an hour because broken broomsticks are a big, expensive, mad-daddy thing. I was stupidcrazydelirious to try to play Quidditch on an empty stomach :: What the hell was I trying to prove?
When he leaves, Auntie Audrey and Auntie Ginny try to tell me that he was oh-so-very-worried and yelling at me was his was of trying to tell me that. Idiots. Daddy can't punish me harder than myself.
I already am.
I've got a plan.
A/N:
So that's it for Dominique. Please review. Some of you lovely readers may notice the Wintergirls quotes in here. Yeah, I don't own Laurie's amazing work. Just like how I don't own all this HP stuff. This is the most intense I want to try. Maybe when I become a better writer, I'll push the line a little further, but not right now.
Just so you know, I will try to update, but this isn't like I can just string some words together. I really have to feel this in order to write. I write based on my mood, so I can't tell you when my next update is going to be.
And, I got this idea off of the song Dirty Little Secret by The All-American Rejects. I love how everyone just shares their DLS. So, yeah. Here it goes.
My DLS: Every bite of food is like a handful of nails but I am too scared to stop.