3
Dignity
By: Mad Hatter
PG-13 – for language and suggestive themes O.o;
Disclaimer: I do NOT own any of these characters. All characters and related themes are property of J.K Rowling, Scholastic... etc.
'And yet another glorious morning…' It was almost always this same, sarcastic thought that slid into my mind every time I would awake, and like every morning, I'd lie there entangled in your sheets, wondering idly what had happened to the night; what had happened to you. You were always gone. It was perhaps a stupid thought; a waste of my time. I had always known where you were off to…always that same hellish place. Sometimes if I wasn't feeling particularly vile, just thinking about what you had to go through there made me shiver. Was this pity?
'I'll never understand…why do you torture yourself so…?'
Casually, preserving my dignity with a sleepy air, I'd swing my legs over the side of the silk-laced bed, sinking my bare feet into the soft, plush of carpet that you insisted on having. I'd casually run a hand back through my platinum blonde, mess of hair as if this would seriously straighten me out enough to hide the nights promiscuous activities. Despite my cautious movements, I always found myself stumbling about groggily into your bathroom using the walls for support, only to fumble clumsily with the shower taps. With every curse that sprang from my mouth due to the scalding water, I'd think of you and how much you were causing this moment to happen. It's your fault I come here. It's your fault I have to do this. You see, the water has to be scalding. Stepping under the water's burning falls, I would scrub relentlessly at my skin until my pale flesh tinged red, and then I'd indulge in its awakening potential and its wonderful ability to wash you away…sending your lingering scent spiraling down the drain to some distant abyss.
Did I say dignity? There is no such thing anymore…You robbed me of that a long time ago….
On this particular morning I didn't leave immediately like I normally would. I didn't find myself striding off across the room trying to impersonate carelessness only to pause in the doorway before continuing out without a backwards glance. No…on this morning I found myself back in your room just standing there motionless, my mind gone blank.
The room was set up just as normal. Everything was where it should have been, neatly organized, but it felt so…empty. I could feel this every time I left. It's an odd, cold, distant feeling, but every morning it tugs with more force on someplace inside me. This time, perhaps, it called me back. I don't think that I can bear this feeling…this burden anymore.
My eyes drifted to your bed, to the dark silk sheets that were warped in every which direction. It was the only sign that anyone had been there, as everything else was more immaculately perfect than was necessary. Yet it still felt more like home…some place I'd rather be than my own empty dwelling. You know those times that you want to cry? Those times that feel so dead and desolate that you just want to weep to yourself forever? I think this was one of those times, but conjuring those tears was impossible for me. How many times have I cried only to be disappointed again? It never helped. Learning to hold back all that seemed to be my only option. It made my eyes hurt.
Before I realized, I had sat on the edge of the bed, closing my eyes and taking a slow deep breath. This place…this room… It was something that we shared; our deep, dark, dirty little secret that no one would know. No one would want to know or care to accept it as reality. Lying back on the pillows, I once again wrapped myself up in the sheets, not caring for once if you came home and found me still there. Then…you would know, wouldn't you; everything that I was and had been feeling for the last few weeks now? I suppose it didn't matter much anymore. You were already there… in my mind. That was the only place that I truly felt a connection with you. That was always to be my secret; never to be spoken aloud. My own private, dirty little secret that could never pass from my lips.
I hate you… no matter how much I want to say that I love you… no matter how much truth is behind this desire to speak those words… I still hate you. You know damn well that I do. You know that I can't stand the thought of someone seeing us together; to see the way that I hesitate every single time you brush against me… You know that I would rather be frozen, dead in some ditch somewhere than be caught staring into your enrapturous, emerald eyes… even by you. And you know by damn, bloody god that every moment spent with you, every damned moment spent in your presence…in your room…every single memory… makes me detest myself all the more. It makes me want to hurt you. It makes me want to crush you beneath my foot; to make you scream, bleed, and cry before me. I want… no… I need to see you suffer a thousand fold for what you have reduced me to.
And yet…as I lay here… once again surrounded by your essence… I find myself aching to have you here again…
Why must I miss you…?
Did we ever have just a moment? A time that we both felt the same tide of emotion outside of hatred and rivalry? Was this all a game to you? Was I alone in the fact that whenever you drifted off into an exhausted slumber, I would lie awake for hours just watching you dream, feeling you breathe calmly and peacefully beside me? Did you notice anything outside of your own inner fantasy world? Did I-did I even really exist for you?
Look what you've done... Look what you have brought me to. My snide, cynical self is dying. My strength...my will...it's all a loss to me now. What I once was is slowly disappearing before my very eyes and I don't think you notice, and if you do...you just don't care. It wears me out...
I don't think that I can go on like this...
