Throttle

you swallow the insults like shards of glass, such miniscule pieces they sting and imbed themselves in the walls of your throat, so that every time you swallow you still know they're there. and it hurts, like one more problem you've got on your back but rather these insults effect your throat. that hollow tube you eat, you breathe, attain the naturalness of life from. but you aren't like them, like Mummy used to say, you're a Black so these hurts are the same of your sistersanddaddyandmummyandauntie.

there's a necklace in ruins that melted at the bottom of a fireplace so long before. you think maybe one of minnidite's chores was to clean this last remain of necklace from the corner of that fireplace, one last clean sweep as if to brush the remaining ash of andromeda from the Family. some say you can't wipe out a person, but these people aren't the Blacks.

you remember, unfortunatly. childish things of romps in the woods and faerie hunting. and dark things that appeared like pop up characters in a children's book from hell as your childhood slipped between your fingers. elevenBlackslytherinBlackblond welcome to hogwarts.

and books, lots of books, and words and answers and the necklace you wore that bound you to your family. the slicing of your finger to place against your sisters' bleeding appendiges so that the Black blood slid together in bond. you were the unholy trinity of fantasticly Black proportions.

and falling into this fabulous world you were born into was ohsoeasy. then the nightmares and nightsweats and thoughts so impure crossed your head. whys appeared miraculously in your head and you were questiong your own Black morals. thoughts like these didn't even exist and they continued to be omnipresent in your life.

you got older, things got darker, the necklace grew tighter round your neck and the scar shone brightly. then your world crashed and plummeted to the darkness, the world other Black.

you slapped ted tonks your second year because he insulted you and now you knew he was right and it was so frightening it shook your core. you were fragile, no!notaBlack!, and past denial and in this realization that maybe, just maybe this wasn't how the world worked.

and now its this way. its you here, them there. you gone, them standing in the ruins of the immaculate family. their honor nearly diminished but their denial heavy. no books, no linens, no 'a' on the crest. no more 'meda in the unholy trinity and no more necklace round your neck. ted to hold your hand and nymphadora to raise, narcissa to forget and bellatrix to break your heart.

either way you view your life, if you're winning, losing, Black - it's still hard to breathe.

cough cough: okay, it's weird. eep. its all jumbly and disgruntled and weird and pretty dreadful. ack. review to make (or break) my day. please?