Chapter Twelve
Rated M for self-harm, non-con
Could be triggering
I don't own anything
A/N: Please don't hate me. There's still like one or two chapters left, but you all are going to kill me. I really like this chapter though and I had it planned from the beginning. Thank you all for your continued support it's really awesome and I love every single one of you.
I took care of her every need. I never left her side, but I barely spoke. I couldn't bring myself to. I just felt too guilty. I was falling deeper and deeper into the depression that had gripped me for a year and almost ended me.
I'd gone back to Dumbledore's knife. The sting of the blade finally brought the pain to the surface. I was more discrete than I had been in the past; I couldn't let her know I'd started again, not after all she had done to make me stop. She'd think it was her fault too, but it wasn't. She was my savior and I had let her down again and again.
She barely spoke as well. There was a heavy silence that hung around us whenever we were together, and both of us were too scared to break it. We'd sit on the couch where we'd first kissed in complete silence. Sitting close enough to grip the other's hand but not so much that we touched. That's what things were. Two people, empty shells of their former selves sitting on a couch. That's what we had become.
I slipped out of bed at night and snuck into the bathroom. I pulled the knife out from its hiding place and slid it over my arm. I sighed with relief and brought the knife back up to do it again.
"Harry…"
I shot around and there she was. Luna. She was standing there looking at me with confusion, sorrow, and disappointment. I could feel the tears well up in my eyes, my heart and throat clenching.
"I'm sorry." Was all I could choke out.
"No, no," she said, starting to cry. "It's my fault. I should've…I knew…"
"It's not you, Luna, no it's not you. It's my fault I didn't stop them sooner. It's my fault that you…" I still couldn't bring myself to say it.
"What? That I got raped? That I toss and turn every night? That I can't close my eyes without going back there? How is that your fault?" Luna shouted. "God Harry! When will you wrap your mind around the fact that you can't stop everything! Bad things will happen whether you like it or not and you can't stop them! Why don't you get that? And this I don't need this now! I can barely get up in the morning. I can barely do anything anymore. And you…you're not helping. You're with me all the time, but you're not really there. You're lost in your own world of self-pity and loathing, leaving me to deal with this by myself. And I can't help but think that it's my fault. That if I were just a little more active or smiled a bit more that you'd come back to me, but you don't. And now this? I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore."
"Luna, I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I just don't know what to do, and I'm trying to deal with this as best I can but I don't know what the hell I'm doing? I'm trying…" I tried to apologize, but she was right.
"I think you should leave," she whispered.
"Luna."
"Just go."
So I left.