I'm Gonna Fly
Summary: Lily has led a not so pretty life and now she can only think of one way out and that way is to Fly.
Rating: R for mature themes and language.
Warning: This has suicide and cutting as a very prominent theme. If that offends you, I am warning you now. And unless your in a really freaked up situation that I don't even want to know about, some one is not holding a gun to your head forcing you to read my story. And if so I am flattered that the gunman is forcing you to read my story instead of another.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowlings does. And I don't own I'm Gonna Fly, Sydney Forest does. But if you feel like suing go ahead I will laugh my head off and see if there are any hotties in the court room.
Chapter Eleven
Wanna swing from a star in the big, blue sky.
Lily walked around aimlessly, taking in everything but yet taking in nothing at all. It was times like this that everything hurt. What happened to her was sinking in. She had been raped and not only that but she wasn't dead. She was going to fly away, one day, one way or another. She had wanted it for so long she didn't think she could stop. She knew that she had promised but something like that didn't go away.
People always say that suicidal people can be "saved". This always struck Lily as a mistake. To suicidal people death is salvation. The ultimate goal and the one thing you can get out of life. She opened a door and suddenly found herself in the Muggle Studies room. She herself had never taken Muggle Studies, but it wasn't that hard to figure out the purpose of the room. Her footsteps echoed hollowly as she stepped into the room. The sound of her gently shutting the door seemed amplified in the large room.
Desperate, fearful eyes that held none of the promise or hope that they had held last night scanned the room. The distraught gaze fell on something any muggleborn would recognize. A kitchen. Eyes that were not yet as hollow as they were last night went from the refrigerator to the cupboards. Continuing silently in her motionless tour of the new room, her eyes fell on the stove. Her body froze as her mind over-rode it all.
Memories took forefront in the present. The conscious became subconscious as something she had been struggling for years to suppress bubble yet again to the surface. Smell of charring flesh filled her nose as clear as if it still lingered in the air of this setting a whole world. Yellowed with age wallpaper barely visible through the tears of pain and helpless rage. The fire and heat had crawled it's way through her skin. Hear the sizzling of her arm against the metal and coil. She wretched at the bile that rose in her throat at the experience threatened to make it's way up.
And as quickly as it had come, it left. And in its wake a girl of mere fourteen lay in a fetal position. Silent tears rolled down her checks and splattered against the stone; lingering for a moment than fading into nothing. Much like the spirit, hopes, dreams of the girl who had shed them. Her shoulders didn't shake at all. There were not even any silent sobs. This was the rude awakening of a member of the living.
She felt so foolish for not ending it all last night. It was as if she had hoped for something. She inwardly scorned herself. What had she expected? Compassion, Acceptance, Respect? This where fading lingering dreams; the kind little girls held before the world took there dreams and shattered them against the coldness of reality. But Lily was over dreams. She was over hopes. She was over this.
Rising silently from her position, moving with an air of complete calm and acceptance, she walked over to the drawers and began opening them one by one. Measuring cups. Spatulas and whisk. Forks, spoons, and butter knives. Steak knives. Lily picked one of them up and held in her hand. Holding it up to the light she watched the reflection, twisted and mutated, staring resolutely back at her. The light glinted of the magically polished metal as she moved, twisted, and turned it, leaving a pattern burned into her retinas.
Not blinking, she pressed the piece of metal into the inside of her wrist. Cold, pale scarred skin clashed with the warmth the blade had retained from being held up into the rays of sunlight. She gently pressed down and drew it in a perfectly straight angle. Starting at the bone toward the outside of the wrist and continued the line to about six inches to the other side of her wrist ending about 4 inches down from the start and completely across the pale forearm.
Vacant eyes darkened to a sage as she watched the deep-colored liquid seep from the injured flesh. The bubble of blood lay along the line and the girl watched the bubble expand till it looked about ready to burst. Closing her eyes she relished in the feeling of being so human, treading lightly across the line between life and death, flirting with the very meaning of mortality. The blood bubble burst and the deep sticky liquid flowed down her arm, staining the cuff of her rolled up shirt.
Her head felt light and darkness began to creep into it's place around the edge of her conscious. She rested her forehead in the palm of the hand that belonged to her wounded arm. The smell of blood assaulted her senses. Faintly metallic, it was the scent that made most stomach turn. But Lily Evans was not most people. She was different. Most people wouldn't have done this. They would have been appalled at the self-inflicted injury. They would have ran at the thought of drawing their own blood just to feel alive. But for people like Lily this was the only way she could be sure she still was.
And as consciousness left her, her last thought was knowing that she would wake up. Knowing that, like it or not, she had a promise to keep. And no matter how often Lily had heard that this was the coward's way out, she was a person of her word. She would stay alive, if only for a week. As that thought began to fade into the recesses of her clouded mind, her body slipped into the state beyond pain and thought. The tiny teenager's frame slid down to a crumpled heap in the floor.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The normally sparkling blue eyes lost their twinkle. The elderly gentlemen slipped further into the room. He looked at the prone form on the floor and closed his eyes at the pain that threatened to overtake him at the thought of such talent destroying itself. Behind half-moon spectacles blue eyes opened, bearing the tired look that comes with age. He stepped forward and slowly stooped next to the young redhead.
He gently traced the line with his wand and the blood seemed to disappear into the skin itself. The pink streaked turned to a white and became almost invisible next to the normal skin, thanks to this advanced healing. He pulled the cloth down over the injury and buttoned the cuff. Picking up the kitchen utensil weapon. He walked over to the sink and filled it with water. The old man processed to clean it the muggle way despite his super-natural prowess. He deftly rubbed the dirty rag over the jagged edge, it becoming bloodstained in the process.
Old eyes watched as the now pink tinged water spiraled down the drain counter-clockwise. The old man simply dried his hands on a towel and set the blood rag down on the magically stain repellent countertop and muttered a charm under his breath. A red-gold flame leapt from his wand to the piece of fabric as it disappeared consumed by flames without leaving so much as a trace of its existence.
Albus Dumbledore turned and looked one more time at the girl who was lying on the floor. He mentally debated what to do about her. After a moments hesitation, he concluded she was in no danger presently. If he moved her she might realize that someone knew about it and try more solemnly to end it. With one last glance at the small female, the headmaster made his way out of the room, leaving nothing but echoing footsteps in his wake.
IT LIVES! IT LIVES! Lol sorry for taking so very long. But I decided to get out there and live some life. I lived, it sucked, I'm back. Lol lol j/k! But I am back on the ball (whatever ball that may be…) and will be writing if I continue to get reviews. Lets try for ten. Or a week which ever comes first. :P
Alex'z Death Chic—Thanx! I loved your review! It really made my week.
Lyz—Thanx for the praise it made me feel better about this story.
oranfly—You'll just have to wait and see! Hehe.
monkey-see-monkey-do—Thanx! It's your reviews that make it worth it.
Satan Incarnate—Eric next time at least pretend you read it and review on the last chapter. :P
CrazieBAbieMeg—Yeah Meg. Really Really!
KeeperOfTheMoon—I know but if I make them longer I'll never get through the whole song. :D
starborn—I would never think of undermining ur maturity starborn *sticks tongue out back*
Alriadne—Yeah it should be illegal for Harry Potter Fan Fic Authors to go without kool-aid.
EuGIeBeAr—yeah Peter was dropped on his head as a small child.
Lamina Court—I'm probably not giving Madame Pomfrey enough credit but that's ok. I'm mad at our school nurse.
River Goddess—Nope no window just snuck out the front door. :P
Neila Nuruodo the Chiss—That's where Lily is.