Chapter 2: the beauty of blood.
Hermione twirled the Swiss army penknife in her fingers and started to go over the reasons for not doing what she new she was going to do. Right Hermione lets just go over these to be able to say I thought about it. I know that this is stupid and that I am just damaging myself. I probably am just doing this for attention so that if anyone saw the scars they would go "Hermione what are you doing! Don't worry ill save you!" but what would be the point of that seeing as no one would care if I slash my throat. I am just going in a downward spiral seeing as my life is not going to change any time soon. I do this to let the physical pain block out the mental pain. And you know what, it's worked this far! I don't see why it should be any different now! There we go I've thought about the bad points of this so now I am sanely hurting myself. I am still in control. I could stop if I want to. But at the moment I don't so I won't. See I'm in control of this.
She slid her right arm up and held her elbow for a while, waiting for the train to start so that she would not be disturbed. She started to get excited. Her breathing became even more ragged than before and she started to get light headed.
She grabbed hold of the baggage rail to steady herself and stuck her head out the window for some air and realised that their were no students on the platform, just a crowd of parents with a few younger siblings clinging to parents hands looking enviously at the train.
Hermione recalled how exciting it had been to find out that she was a witch. At her muggle school she had been cast out for being "too clever" as many clever people are. She had been so glad to get out of there. To start afresh in a new world where everyone was gifted. Were everyone was equal. She had learned all too quickly that every society has a class system, and in this society, she found she was at the bottom of the pile seeing as she had two muggle parents so was, as Malfoy so eloquently put it, a mudblood. Her first five years in this magical world had been perfect for her, yes she had nearly died several times as she had been friends with his famousness, Harry Potter, who found it impossible not to play the hero. Her only flaw had been that prick, but she could handle him then. That was before they all left her, when she wasn't ready to grow up. She realised she could be in a group of people and still be completely alone. She realised that she was empty and that there was a pain inside her that needed to be countered.
The train jerked into motion slowly, gaining speed. The parents on the platform started waving madly and Hermione could see other students leaning out of compartment windows along the train waving back. Hermione didn't. Her parents had not come to wave her off. They had more important things to do. They had to see that Jennifer, Hermione's older sister, had all the things she had left behind. Hermione didn't mind that her parents had deserted her on her first day of her last year. She was used to rejection.
The train was leaving behind the sight of the station and was slipping into a constant speed. She was just about to slip back inside the compartment when she saw the back of a platinum blonde head and her breath caught in her throat. Flashes of the previous events on the platform flickered in front of her. A single painful tear, streaked down her face and she snapped her head back into the compartment, slamming the window shut and pulling the compartment door blinds down.
She squeezed the penknife in her hand, and shut her eyes, swaying on the spot for a bit. It was all too much. The images kept flickering, each one causing her stomach to clench in shame and humiliation. Memories of today's events brought up older memories. Her parents yelling at her, rejection at her muggle school, rejection at hog warts, not being good enough, the list went on. It seemed endless. Each image stabbing her until she clutched her stomach and fell on the chair, unable to stand any longer. The tears kept rolling. She held up the penknife and pulled down the small blade from the case. The metal glinted invitingly at her and she affectionately ran a finger down the flat of the blade. As corny as it sounds the blade was the only friend she had. It was the only thing that brought comfort to her, apart from her dreams. She dug out her Disc man and played the song. She had to. She couldn't do this in silence. It would make everything too real.
*He spent his whole life being too young, to live the life that's in his dreams.*
She inspected her elbow tracing over the three dots in a triangle formation. She figured if she kept the scars small no one would find out and she would delude herself into thinking that she wasn't self harming.
*At night he lies awake and he wonders, "Why can't that be me?"*
She always kept to the dots. They were her comfort zone.
*Cause in his life he's lived with all these good intentions*
She would never cut her wrists. No one would expect her to cut her elbows. No one would look there, not that they cared enough to look, but she felt safer slitting her elbows rather than her wrists.
*He's left a lot of things he'd rather not mention right now. *
She turned the blade upside down resting the tip of the blade on her skin.
*Just before he says goodnight, he looks up with a little smile at me. *
She guided the tip to one of the dots and started to increase the pressure slowly twisting the blade into her skin.
*He says: If I cud be like that, I would give any thing. *
The stinging pain makes her gasp with relief.
*Just to live one day in those shoes. *
She moves onto the next dot with more force this time.
*If I could be like that what would I do? *
On the third dot she spins the blade into her skin.
*What would I do? *
She looks closely at the wounds. Waiting. Patiently waiting. Then it came. Blood oozed from the abused wounds, forming crimson wells on each dot. The fierce beauty of blood amazed Hermione every time. She could just look at it for hours it was that beautiful. If the tears were not already streaming down her cheeks, its beauty would have caused her to weep.
Just focus on the pain of the dots Hermione. Focus on the dots. Forget them all. Forget them all. There are only these dots and there always will be. The crimson triangle is all that there is.
There was a knock on the compartment door. Hermione hastily covered her left elbow and dried her tears. She was still all splotchy from the tears but in the short time she had it would have to do. The door slowly creaked open, and a grey head craned its way round the door.
"Miss Granger, I need to speak to you immediately."
Hermione twirled the Swiss army penknife in her fingers and started to go over the reasons for not doing what she new she was going to do. Right Hermione lets just go over these to be able to say I thought about it. I know that this is stupid and that I am just damaging myself. I probably am just doing this for attention so that if anyone saw the scars they would go "Hermione what are you doing! Don't worry ill save you!" but what would be the point of that seeing as no one would care if I slash my throat. I am just going in a downward spiral seeing as my life is not going to change any time soon. I do this to let the physical pain block out the mental pain. And you know what, it's worked this far! I don't see why it should be any different now! There we go I've thought about the bad points of this so now I am sanely hurting myself. I am still in control. I could stop if I want to. But at the moment I don't so I won't. See I'm in control of this.
She slid her right arm up and held her elbow for a while, waiting for the train to start so that she would not be disturbed. She started to get excited. Her breathing became even more ragged than before and she started to get light headed.
She grabbed hold of the baggage rail to steady herself and stuck her head out the window for some air and realised that their were no students on the platform, just a crowd of parents with a few younger siblings clinging to parents hands looking enviously at the train.
Hermione recalled how exciting it had been to find out that she was a witch. At her muggle school she had been cast out for being "too clever" as many clever people are. She had been so glad to get out of there. To start afresh in a new world where everyone was gifted. Were everyone was equal. She had learned all too quickly that every society has a class system, and in this society, she found she was at the bottom of the pile seeing as she had two muggle parents so was, as Malfoy so eloquently put it, a mudblood. Her first five years in this magical world had been perfect for her, yes she had nearly died several times as she had been friends with his famousness, Harry Potter, who found it impossible not to play the hero. Her only flaw had been that prick, but she could handle him then. That was before they all left her, when she wasn't ready to grow up. She realised she could be in a group of people and still be completely alone. She realised that she was empty and that there was a pain inside her that needed to be countered.
The train jerked into motion slowly, gaining speed. The parents on the platform started waving madly and Hermione could see other students leaning out of compartment windows along the train waving back. Hermione didn't. Her parents had not come to wave her off. They had more important things to do. They had to see that Jennifer, Hermione's older sister, had all the things she had left behind. Hermione didn't mind that her parents had deserted her on her first day of her last year. She was used to rejection.
The train was leaving behind the sight of the station and was slipping into a constant speed. She was just about to slip back inside the compartment when she saw the back of a platinum blonde head and her breath caught in her throat. Flashes of the previous events on the platform flickered in front of her. A single painful tear, streaked down her face and she snapped her head back into the compartment, slamming the window shut and pulling the compartment door blinds down.
She squeezed the penknife in her hand, and shut her eyes, swaying on the spot for a bit. It was all too much. The images kept flickering, each one causing her stomach to clench in shame and humiliation. Memories of today's events brought up older memories. Her parents yelling at her, rejection at her muggle school, rejection at hog warts, not being good enough, the list went on. It seemed endless. Each image stabbing her until she clutched her stomach and fell on the chair, unable to stand any longer. The tears kept rolling. She held up the penknife and pulled down the small blade from the case. The metal glinted invitingly at her and she affectionately ran a finger down the flat of the blade. As corny as it sounds the blade was the only friend she had. It was the only thing that brought comfort to her, apart from her dreams. She dug out her Disc man and played the song. She had to. She couldn't do this in silence. It would make everything too real.
*He spent his whole life being too young, to live the life that's in his dreams.*
She inspected her elbow tracing over the three dots in a triangle formation. She figured if she kept the scars small no one would find out and she would delude herself into thinking that she wasn't self harming.
*At night he lies awake and he wonders, "Why can't that be me?"*
She always kept to the dots. They were her comfort zone.
*Cause in his life he's lived with all these good intentions*
She would never cut her wrists. No one would expect her to cut her elbows. No one would look there, not that they cared enough to look, but she felt safer slitting her elbows rather than her wrists.
*He's left a lot of things he'd rather not mention right now. *
She turned the blade upside down resting the tip of the blade on her skin.
*Just before he says goodnight, he looks up with a little smile at me. *
She guided the tip to one of the dots and started to increase the pressure slowly twisting the blade into her skin.
*He says: If I cud be like that, I would give any thing. *
The stinging pain makes her gasp with relief.
*Just to live one day in those shoes. *
She moves onto the next dot with more force this time.
*If I could be like that what would I do? *
On the third dot she spins the blade into her skin.
*What would I do? *
She looks closely at the wounds. Waiting. Patiently waiting. Then it came. Blood oozed from the abused wounds, forming crimson wells on each dot. The fierce beauty of blood amazed Hermione every time. She could just look at it for hours it was that beautiful. If the tears were not already streaming down her cheeks, its beauty would have caused her to weep.
Just focus on the pain of the dots Hermione. Focus on the dots. Forget them all. Forget them all. There are only these dots and there always will be. The crimson triangle is all that there is.
There was a knock on the compartment door. Hermione hastily covered her left elbow and dried her tears. She was still all splotchy from the tears but in the short time she had it would have to do. The door slowly creaked open, and a grey head craned its way round the door.
"Miss Granger, I need to speak to you immediately."