Here's the next peice to what could become my epic baby. Enjoy...BTW, there's some not at all sutle themes in here that aren't for kiddies. It's not graphic, but it's not nice.
A History of Death
First Time
My first time I had been eleven or twelve.
Not the first time I almost killed myself—the first time that everyone reveres and cherishes, the first time I experienced the pleasures of the flesh. I was a low, little first year—the Gryffindor reject—and she was a seventh year. Not just any seventh year—she was the Head Girl.
I can't remember her name anymore, or even what she looked like. All I can remember about her was her smile. It was like sugar—sweet, but too much of it made my teeth ache. She was tall, but everyone older than me was tall then.
She's also the reason why I don't like girls.
I was frightened by what was happening to my body. I was confused and scared and had no one I could talk to, and she made me feel things that I never felt before. I didn't understand it. I was ashamed. I thought no one else could possible feel what I was feeling or have experienced what I did. I hated it.
She had been so nice to me before—even protecting me from the older Gryffindors who did think I was like my family. She let me tag along with her in the library when she studied for her classes. She liked to pet my hair and called me her "little puppy." One day she told me she had a "treat" for me. Some treat. She took me to an empty classroom and made me take off my clothes and lie on the professor's desk in the front. I didn't know what she wanted, and I don't know why I did, but I did what she wanted.
I never really felt clean anymore after that. I scrubbed my skin raw that night in burning hot water, but I still felt filthy.
She told me she cared about me, and that's why she was doing what she was doing. I cried that night. I never cried before. After all, Blacks don't cry. I felt so weak. I didn't tell anyone—not Remus and especially not James. They couldn't possibly understand what it was like for your body to be taken over like that from the inside, or so I thought.
But she said she cared about me. She cared. That's why she did it. If people did that cared about you, what was so bad? I never said no when anyone would ask if they could touch me. After all, it was only because they cared. Right?
I always knew I was pretty—my features were too androgynous to be handsome. I inherited my father's looks, not my mother's. She looked like a hag, and acted like one, too. I was pretty, and so was Regulus. He still is. I still look exactly the same though. The potion I took that last time was supposed to stop my heart. I guess I didn't use enough aconite. Aconite slows down the heart, you see. It also paralyzes the muscles used in respiration. It makes the drinker die from asphyxiation before the heart stops. I shouldn't have stopped aging, but I did. I don't know why—neither do Lily or Severus.
Severus… I loved him, I think. It hurts to think about it. I don't want to talk about him yet.
I had loved Remus, too. And he use to love me. He was the first boy I let touch me, and for the longest time he was the only one. I trusted him. I loved him more than I loved everyone else in my life combined. I gave him my heart. I made a mistake.