A few people asked if I had read the book 'Cut' – I have and the treatment facility in this story is based on that. The thing about a girl cutting herself with a staple on a chair is also taken from the book.
Quickly – if anyone can find the reference to your beloved author in chapter three you get a cookie!
Kazillion – could you please email me or something because I would greatly appreciate your help in parts of this story
4. Blackbird singing in the dead of night
"Blackbirds singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life."
Harry smiled as he listened to Lyric sing, recognising the classic Beatles number, remembering his Aunt Petunia playing the record repeatedly when her and Uncle Vernon drank a little too much red wine. Aged only six, Harry had been taken with the song and had learnt every word.
"You were only waiting for this moment to arise."
Lyric giggled and looked at Harry through the ever-present curtain of hair as he softly sang the next line of the song.
"You like the Beatles?" he asked, taking a black jelly baby from the packet she offered.
"My daddy used to listen to it. When I was very little."
"Yea. My aunt and uncle used to listen to it. I used to sit on the stairs with my cousin and hear them and their friends singing and laughing."
"Why are you so sad?" inquired Lyric, leaning closer to Harry.
"I'm not sad. I'm just thinking is all."
"You said you live with your godfather. Why?"
Harry bit his lip, contemplating whether to lie or to be honest.
'What harm can it do to tell her the truth?'
"My parents died when I was very small. I lived with my aunt and uncle until I was sixteen and then I moved in with my godfather."
"Oh. Do you miss your parents?"
Harry shrugged. "Sometimes. But I don't really remember them so it's not quite as bad."
"Hmm."
Lyric lay her head in Harry's lap.
"Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these sunken eyes and learn to see."
"What about your family, Lyric? What are they like?"
"My brother could play the song on the guitar as well. He used to come into my room and play his guitar and we would sing. He had a lovely voice."
"What about your parents?"
"All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free."
Clearly, Lyric was not going to answer the question. The avoidance was blatantly obvious, so Harry settled for stroking back her blonde locks and humming to himself.
Once again, the door opened and Draco walked in, the smile that Harry was becoming more and more accustomed to firmly in place.
"Ricky, there's a phone call from you. There's an attendant outside to take you to the desk," he said, looking down affectionately at the girl.
Lyric sat up and with a smile to both boys, floated out of the room, still humming the Beatles song.
"You alright Harry?" asked Draco, sitting next to the other boy.
"I'm okay."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"
"Well, I'm fine. I really am. But its just Lyric. Why is she here?"
"I thought she showed you her scars."
Harry nodded and crossed his legs on the sofa, turning to Draco.
"Yea, she did. But why did she do that? I mean, do you know?"
Draco mimicked Harry's seating position on the sofa and crossed his arms over his chest.
"I know...some things about Lyric. But I can't tell you."
"But Dra-"Harry protested, but the blond held up his hand to stop him.
"It's confidential information on a patient. If it gets found out that I told you I could lose my job. We're not allowed to tell patients about other patients."
"Then don't tell me attendant to patient. Tell me friend to friend. Surely there are no rules saying that an attendant can't tell a friend about a patient."
"I'll tell you what I know, only because Lyric seems to like you and you and her seem to be becoming friends. But you keep it to yourself. Promise?"
"I promise," smiled Harry.
Draco sighed loudly and settled back against the cushions.
"Lyric never knew her father. He left her and her mother when she was a couple of months old. Her mum remarried when Lyric was six and Lyric's step-father used to hit her."
"Didn't her mum try to stop it?" asked Harry, his brow creased, eyes filled with concern, all his attention on Draco.
"Her mum was always too pissed or too high to even get out of bed. When Lyric was fifteen she ran away from home and moved in with her boyfriend at the time, who was twenty. He used to beat the shit out of her, call her names, tell her she was worthless."
"When did she start...cutting?"
Draco shrugged. "I dunno. I assume it started when she was thirteen or fourteen but it's hard for anyone to tell a she was always so damn secretive."
"If no one knew then how did she end up getting admitted here?"
"Her asshole of a boyfriend raped her one night, then kicked her out the apartment. Some woman found Lyric collapsed naked by a dumpster, covered in cuts and bruises, and huge gashes through her wrists. After she was let out of the hospital she was sent here."
"Holy shit," muttered Harry, his hands hovering near his mouth on his stricken face.
"I know," Draco agreed sadly. "And now she's so totally fucked beyond belief that she'll never be able to get out of here and live a normal life."
They sat in silence, both looking at their jean clad legs, until Draco placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and looked deep into his emerald eyes.
"But you can, Harry. You can deal with whatever it is that caused you to hurt yourself and you can leave here and you can just keep living."
Draco's voice burned with so much passion and hope that Harry had to break the eye contact.
"Please."
The song that Lyric and Harry are singing is 'Blackbird' originally sung by the Beatles but I personally prefer the Sarah McLachlan version (watch the amazing film I Am Sam in which this song is used). The title of this chapter also comes from the song.
On Sunday I am going to Reading Festival (YAY!!!) to see bands such as Greenday, Lost Prophets, The Streets, Placebo, Yellowcard, Auf Der Maur, Supergrass, the Von Bondies..........50 cent?
There was really no reason for that but I'm just so excited. 4 DAYS TO GO
Anyway, please review.
