Coma
Cellos. Their voices reach my eras as I've set the volume on maximum. Yes. That's the Music. Perfect for me for today. Like a storm on autumn.
I'm on the balcony, sitting, smoking and depreesing myself. It's too warm. It should be raining. There shouldn't be such weather when I'm depressed.
And everything was to be so good… I almost thought it's over at last, I'm free of Mr. S – nevermore. He *always* will find a way to humiliate me and mom.
I've got enough of trials eve if I haven't been on any of them. It wasn't necessary as I'm still underage. So what, that he wants to prove *I*'m not his daughter.
I've got enough of my own personal problems. Caused by the way by *him* as well, at least I can suppose so. I'm afraid of getting into deep boy/girl relationships. I am afraid of attaching to someone – and I attach very quickly. I hardly imagine my life without mom, without my friends, withour Stranger even. I wish to play something, like the other day. But now my fingers no longer know the notes. I forgot how to play. I can only listen.
I'm sleepy. Can't get enough sleep lately.
Oh, my cigarette burned out. Oh well. Another one.
Don't look at me like that. I'm 16. I'm neurotic. I look for any ways of getting rid of stress. Intensive chwing a gum also helps.
God, I really wish I could cry. I feel horrible. The whole world is fallign on my head lately. School, learning, creating, nightmares, trials. Stress, stress, stress. No wonder why I'm taking pills to get some serious sleep. I shouldn't do that – I don't dream when on pills. He would have something to say about this, but I really need to have *some* sleep before I faint someday or die of exhaustion.
Oh, and my sister, of course, is another of my problems. His blood. It was a long time ago, when I said that we two are just the types that cannot possibly live with each other without fighting ans quarrel. The scar on my thigh reminds me about that. And that almost invisible one on cheek as well.
My cat is mad at me for some reason that is not known to me. I never understood this animal.
My mom shouts at me, which is her way of throwing out the stress and frustration. Pity. It touches me. She forgets. I don't.
We have no money again.
I've got so much to lears that I don't know where to start. Probably, I won't do anything at all. As usual.
I've got bloody nightmares about mirrors.
Nobody loves me.
That should be enough reasons to be depressed, isn't it?
*Puff*
"You weren't supposed to do that. Chizpurfles"
He looks quite astinished as I spoke to him with the cigarette still in my mouth.
"What? Never seen a 16-year old smoking, depressed girl?"
Silence. My, if I weren't so busy with my own thoughts, I would find it funny that he sits with me on the floor. So… not like him. No tea. No talk.
"No new dreams" I say looking to the sky. Damn beautiful weather, it's realy nice. Perfect for a walk.
Ha, I just catch myself on thinking I would like to talk with someone about these problems of mine. But certinly He would not be the person. He wouldn't like to listen. But it's noce that he IS here, anyway. At least I have that…
"I shall go" he says. And gets up. I knew it. I don't.
"You shouldn't smoke" he says, but I've got the feeling it's just formal.
"There are worse kinds of death"
"This one is not pleasant too"
"I know" I look at him. He does the Apparating spell. And a second before he's gone, I finish my sentence.
"My father died of lungs cancer"
Nothing.
Ah, the music of wild cellos!…
It lullabies me, as I grow sleepier. I will awake when all my wound are healed. I will awake at the sunset. To live at night, as I dream.
But, of course, mom won't let me. I have to go to scholl on the morning. Normaln people sleep at night.
Did I ever say I'm normal?
***
I want to yell at him, but that would be unfair. I've got no reason to do this. I'm just sitting on the couch and he's sitting next to the table. Nothing more. Well, he probably stares. I can feel it.
He didn't say a word since he apparated.
Soon I will have chizpurfles in the flat, of this magic. I would tell him not to do that, but firstly, he probably won't listen anyway, secodnly, I don't want to tlak. At all. Haven't spoken a word a word too.
We just sit in silence.
Finally, after half of an hour or some, he speaks, like he would be just out of his thoughts.
"You… always call your father 'Mr. S' or 'my so-called father'. Why?"
"Because he's not my father"
Again, a silence falls upon us. Now I must explain this. I would rather not. Damn it.
"My real father died fifteen years ago of lungs cancer. He only saw me once. He didn't know he had a daughter until mom told him. They were friends once, before she got married with Mr. S. They broke up, didn't see each other for couple of years. My mom was never happy in marriage, he wasn't faithful. He had other women three months after their wedding. No wonder she was sad. And when my sisted was born, she appeared to be just the same stubborn and heartless as him. Mom wanted to have another child but not with him. And then this man, my father, came again. He was married too and his wife left him for another, got pregnant with him. They, I mean mom and this man who I don't know, started meeting, then there was one sad evening, some alcohol, you know the rest. They haven't meet since. Only after I was born she met him an told him, then he came to our house, this house, when Mr. S. was in work. He told her he had cancer, he had a surgery, maybe he would live. And she never saw him again, just about eight years later there was meeting of her old class from studies, where they met. Her friends told her he died one year later. That's all"
I sit sadly looking at the carpet. I really don't like to talk about it.
"How did you find out?"
"A cliché. I have different blood group than my mother. I noticed it when I was twelve. I asked, she answered. She told me the rest when I got fifteen, that was our deal."
"How much do you know about your real father?"
"Not much. Why do you ask?"
He looks at me with a mixture of amazement and… I don't know. Like he would pity me. I need no pity.
Oh yeah, he must've heard that. I forgot to watch my thoughts.
"I searched the genealogy of your mother and your… well, so-called father, as you call him. They're Muggles all the way. But your real father, it could've been him. That would be the reason you have these dreams"
"But my mom…"
"Your mom is what we call Muggle witch. She feels some things that not all Muggles feel, she does some pagan spells but there is no real magic in it, only strong faith. You, on the other things, also feel some things, but these dreams are sign of this 'real' magic"
"So my father could have been a wizard?!"
"I don't think so. A wizard wouldn't die of cancer. Probably he was a Squib, maybe son of some half-blood, to little wizard's blood to be a wizard. I have to check it. Do you know his name?"
"Yes" I say and give it.
My father… a wizard? Yeah, and what else? Merlin himself?
"Don't even think this name so carefree. It is an important person for every wizard" he says and there something odd on his face. Could it be a smile? Or another smirk?
I can feel the emotions boiling in me. I want to cry, but don't know how, as usual.
"Will you leave me now?"
"I should check it the soonest as possible. The sooner, the better"
"And I presume that there's no point in asking you why you must hurry so much?"
"Of course there is. But you won't be answered anyway" he smirks.
"Then go now. I think I need to be alone and think about something"
He stands up and walks to me.
"I think so too. Keep yourself together, Natalie" he touches my arm in comfort. Such a automatical gesture, but he doesn't even know how I appreciate it.
He smiles. Or maybe it was a delusion.
But I know what will be next. He will go and I will sit and look at the walls. I will think very intensively about it, for about hundredth time, and there will be no conclusion. As usual. These emotions come out of me and almost I fall in a coma, or some other strange sleep. Without feelings. Without thoughts. It's easier that way.
"See you" he says and apparates.
Damn it, again. One more time and I will really shout at him. Though as far as I know myself, I won't dare to.
Bloody chizpurfles.
A song for today: (well, it's not a song, but… had to give it) Apocalyptica "Hall of the Mountain King"
Review!!! Please! I need it to live! I want to know if it's good and should I continue it!
Oh, and I'm looking for a beta-reader, because English is my foreign language and it would be good if someone would check these fics before I put them online. Anyone interested?