- - -
"For a long time I was in love
Not only in love, I was obsessed
With a friendship that no one else could touch
It didn't work out, I'm covered in shells…
I'm so ashamed, I've been so mean
I don't know how it got to this point
I always was the one with all the love
You came along; I'm hunting you down
Like a sick domestic abuser looking for a fight…"
- - -
Chapter Twelve: Sick Domestic Abuser
- Seventh Year -
He's kissing my ear. Licking it and rolling the lobe between his harsh teeth. I can feel the enamel against the skin, smell the breath that is threatening to consume me. He had onions today. It's enough to make me gag.
He's speaking. But they're words that I don't want to hear. Words that make me feel the wanton whore and he my man of the hour. Words that should never escape a man's lips. Lips that are moving away from my ear and down my neck, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake. Burning my skin. Like acid. Making it peel away.
He's too heavy. Leaning on my chest. I can hear my breastbone creaking, warning me. I'm about to shatter. And then I'll just be here. A limp, lifeless pile of broken bones. And he'll have to sweep me away. Under a rug. And tell his friends that nothing happened.
His hands are clammy. Sweaty. Too hot. And not in a good way. They're sticking, sticking to my skin. My skin that's lost in a cold sweat. Sweat of a nightmare. Wake me up now. And we can pretend nothing ever happened.
I don't know why I do this to myself. Why I let him and him and the other and his friend. Touch me like this. Look at me like that. Undress me with their eyes and later with clumsy fingers.
But I do know...
It's to forget. To wipe the slate clean and somehow start over again. But no one has. Yet. They've just made the writing stand out all the clearer, the sharper. The much more vivid. This one-sided coupling is getting old. And I am getting tired.
I haven't been able to look in the mirror for what feels like weeks.
- - -
I'm a folk song in the making. The downfall of the fair maiden whose young squire left her alone among the beasts.
She let them all consume her. You wouldn't be able to recognize her anymore. You wouldn't want to.
She's ugly now.
I'm walking. Walking back to my room. Walking and walking and walking and feeling my self plummet a little further with each resounding footstep. The sounds bouncing off of empty walls.
I don't belong here. In a castle. I belong beneath the roof of a seedy hotel. Walls dripping in ancient water stains. Carpet torn past mending. Beds draped in covers that haven't been cleaned in decades; floral design no longer discernible. A faucet that drips most of the night away. Rusty doorknobs and squeaky hinges.
I can't look up. I can't look up. I have to look down. Look down. Look down. And find myself dancing with the devil in the flames of hell. But this is hell. Right here. And I am frying. Burning until you won't be able to tell my arms from my legs, my heart from my intestines. I'm decaying. Disintegrating.
I let them touch me. I let them look at me. I let them see me naked. I let them kiss me and touch me and try to hold me and I let them do the things only you could once do. I let them have me. Because of you.
You.
Step. Step. Step. Left. Right. Left. Walk faster. Walk faster and leave it all behind. Walk walk walk walk. And you'll be gone soon. And so will he. And all the things he made you do.
Them.
They won't help me. They can't help me. But I let them try. Over and over again. Repetition only leads to insanity and I think I'm cracking up.
I let them use me. To forget you.
You.
You ruined me. Colored my soul black. Ripped hope right off its hinges and let it fly away. Flapping in the wind. I'm a shell of a woman. A hole in the middle. A void to fill. A woman. With circles beneath her eyes. You wouldn't know that though. You don't look at me anymore.
Just breathe. Just breathe. Keep walking. And breathe. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Now is not the time to cry.
But I need to. I'm running in circles and I think I've gone mad and I have no idea how I've managed to live anymore. Like this.
I am so alone and so cold and so alone and I just want someone to hold me and just hold me and not tell me that everything will be okay because those aren't words I need to hear. I don't want to hear anything and I don't want you to tell me anything. I just want someone close and someone here. I just want to know I'm not alone and I just don't want to be alone right now but I am and it's cold and I just need someone.
Almost there. Almost there. Run inside. And sleep it all away.
In the morning it's always better.
- - -
I wake up angry. Foaming at the mouth angry. Recapping the last week and a half in my head. And promptly wishing I was dead.
I'm trying to find the point where I shed my dignity and left my respect by the wayside. Trying to pinpoint the time when I thought that casual sex and hooking up could lead to happiness. Or at the very least to closure. To moving on and crawling out of the past.
I apparently have to learn my lessons the hard way.
I'm out of bed now. Heading towards the bathroom. I'm late once again. The bathroom has emptied out, everyone already down at breakfast. It's okay though. I apparently don't feel the need to eat any longer.
I pull my shirt up and over my head, carefully averting my reflection in the mirror. I don't belong to me anymore.
There are bruises on my hips. Fucking git. It had hurt then. But I didn't think it'd leave a mark. I hate him.
I finish undressing and head for the shower. I want a bath instead.
I crawl in the empty tub. Recoil against the frozen procelain. Turn the water on. It's like ice against my skin. Hadn't been used in awhile. I could easily heat it up. A swish and flick of the wrist, some muttering in Latin. Not worth it.
I sit there. Naked. Alone. Knees to chest. Watching the icy water pool around my toes. Feeling goose-bumps work their way up and down my arms. My teeth chatter. And the water level rises. Past my ankles. Climbing my calves. And up and up and up. I feel the chill against my belly and spread my legs out. Let myself slide in. Watching the water dip into my belly-button.
I'm shivering and shaking but I let it keep building. Watching the water come closer and closer. Letting it engulf me. My ribs. My breasts. My shoulders. My neck.
It's too much. It's too much. It's all too much. Swallow me. Whole. Swallow me and let me slip away...
I feel the water slosh against my numb lips. Taste it on my tongue. Let some slide down my throat. Cooling its way down. And it just keeps coming. The water. Taking me over. Inch by inch. Over my mouth. Up to my nose. My eyes peer out over the water. Slowly getting blurry. Eyelashes dripping wet. Not sure it's from the bath.
Swallow me...
My hair floats all around me. An octopus. An ink stain. Blackness in the icy coolness. Reaching out towards me. I'm under now. Under and staring. Staring at the stopper at the bottom of the tub.
Eyes are aching, lungs are burning. Bubbles escape my lips. I can't feel my toes.
Let me slip away...
This is how it feels to die. To sit there. And ache and feel and let yourself fall through your own grasp. I could die. Right here. In this tub. Let myself fall down the drain. Swirl away into the unknown. Gone like yesterday.
I close my eyes. Begging for air. Begging and begging and begging.
What have I become? Who the fuck am I right now? What did I let you turn me into?
What am I doing...
Blurry dizzy burning blurry can't see and it hurts and aches and need to...
What am I?
Not this. This isn't me. No no no no no no NO. Not me. No. I am not a girl who drowns herself in bathtub. I am not a girl who shags random boys. I am not a girl who despairs. Over you.
Not anymore.
I'm done.
My eyes fly open.
I wrench my head up, gasping. The tub is overflowing and water has flown everywhere. From me.
I'm shuddering and shaking. Shocked and relieved. And alive. Staring at the growing puddle on the tile floor around me. Watching it soak the towel I left there for me.
And I'm sobbing. Alone in a flooded bathroom. Curled up in the fetal position. Waiting to return to myself.
- - -
I feigned sick the rest of that day. We all have our own unique wake-up calls. This one was mine.
I'm done. I have thrown in the metaphorical towel. I'm walking away. From the mess I let myself become.
It's easier than I thought it would be. Sometimes.
I spend more time studying and even more time with Katie and Alicia. They have unknowingly become my support group. It's nice having people to just sit with. Talk to. Listen to. It's nice to be able to just sit there and discuss the most mindless things. And not care.
But we never seem to reach that level of rapport that we once had…
I still think of him. It's hard not. But I put him away. On a shelf. All his own. A shelf that I keep hidden and under armed guard. Hidden under a level of hostility and animosity.
George, Lee and the girls have realized that they need to keep us separate. I almost ripped his throat out when he said "hi" to me.
And he doesn't get it. He really doesn't. To this day, he still doesn't understand where we went wrong. I can see it in the way he gazes at me. That look. That screams of sorrow and pity and misunderstanding. That look that asks "What did I do?" and honestly not understanding the answer. Rather than making me feel sorry, it pisses me off. Pisses me off that he gets to look all victimized when he's the one that fucked up. Severely. He just walks around, smiling less. Looking confused and lost and…He looks sad. Sadder than he used to. Sadder than he's ever looked.
And it doesn't suit him. At all.
- - -
I close the door to the locker room behind me. Stepping out into the corridor.
And he's there. Waiting, it seems.
He makes me want to tear my hair out. I can't handle looking at him. It makes me think of everything I have ever done to try and forget him and I feel myself drowning in shame and humiliation and embarrassment. And anger. At him.
And he's looking at me. Expectantly. Nervously. Stepping on hot coals he knows might try and light him on fire.
And I will. Step the wrong way and you're a pile of ash.
"Hi," he croaks. And I just look at him. Incredulously. You think the little shit would have learned.
I just stare. Boring my eyes into him. Searing him with my vision. Slicing his brain in half.
He clears his throat. Looks down. Then up. Then down again. He's making me dizzy. "Um. Well. Yeah. Uh. Bridget and I broke up. I thought you might…like to know." Did he now…
His words irritate me. His news infuriates me. He thinks I still care. He thinks I still give a fuck about him.
And he's still looking at me. Sad eyes on a sad face. A sad man. Boy. Whatever the bloody hell he is anymore.
I know you're not supposed to kick a dog when it's down, but he's just begging me. To force him to roll over. Sit. Stand. Play dead.
"A pity." I spit the words out. Toxins on my tongue. He cringes a little. Obviously not the reaction he expected of me.
And I get it now.
This is what he thinks can happen. He can leave her or she can leave him and then he's allowed to crawl back to me. I feel sick.
"You sicken me." I whisper the words. And watch him do a double-take. Asking 'why?' with his sad eyes. "You think because she's gone you can have me back? You're delusional, Weasley. Fucking delusional."
I start to walk away.
"Angelina…wait…that's not what I meant…Angelina…listen to me. I need to…Angelina…Ange…" I hate the desperation in his voice. I hate the need that resonates with every syllable. The grief at the start of each word.
I hate him for making me feel sorry for him.
I don't look at him. I fear that if I do, I may go crawling back.
- - -
"If we met tomorrow for the very first time
Would it start all over again?
Would I try to make you mine?"
- - -
A/N: Song lyrics from Simple Kind of Life – No Doubt.
Well. I apparently updated a lot quicker than I thought I would. Despite the busy weekend. Odd. But then again it is 2:47 in the morning. Which could explain why a good chunk of this is just wild thoughts. But I like it. I'm rambling. My apologies.
I wrote this entire chapter listening to the Requiem for a Dream Soundtrack on repeat. Which I guess explains why a portion of this is just mad suicidal thoughts. I'm afraid I've wandered into a terrible "teen cliche." It seems a bit much...but while writing, it just seemed right. Can't explain it. But seriously, if you read this to "Summer Overture" or "Lux Aeterna" off the CD, it's quite striking. Just what I happen to think though...and you can rarely trust the author...
Anyway...
Please, please, please review. Rock my world. Make my day. Please. I feed off reviews. And I'm starving right now…