Joined up writing. It's easy when you know how. I've spent so long learning to make the pretty letters all connect together, because somewhere inside I know they should. They used to, I'm sure they did, but every time I try to remember the sky falls in and all I see are rocks. Big, black rocks all covered in slime and someone is screaming. I think I should help them but at the same time I think it is me, and I've never been much good at helping myself. All mouth and no trousers, that's what mummy used to say.
My quills are so elegant. So elegant and beautiful. Somewhere in my head I remember a big blue one, and it looks like the one the Healers gave to me, only this one is battered and used. I don't think I have practiced enough to put the peacock feather in such a sorry state, but there it is, all twisted and used. And broken. I'm broken, you know. That's why I'm here, so they can try and fix me.
I don't think they can.
I've been here so long, by myself but that's fine. As long as I get fan mail I don't mind. The most important people in my life are people I will never meet and it has always been that way. My family don't come to see me, they're ashamed, and they say I'm a disgrace. A disgrace to the family name, but I forgot what that was a long time ago. Gilderoy, the Healer calls me, Gilderoy you are a naughty boy.
Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty! Now where have I heard that before?
Obliviate. I don't know what that means, but when I say it out loud it just feels so familiar. I can't quite place it but I think I've said it before, once or twice. If I'm quiet I hear sounds of sadness and regret, and I wonder if I made them. If it's all my fault. I remember feeling bad a lot, all the time in fact, yet at the same time I feel a grim sense of achievement at… at… Oh, why does it make me feel better?
Because I proved them wrong. That's it! They all told me I would fail and that I would never amount to anything, but I showed them! I became something they thought I could never be, and I'm starting to think that perhaps they were right. How I got here, who I am, it all feels so fake. So unreal. Like I put myself up here, forsaking all others and crushing many a toe. This is a roundabout way of saying I'm bad. I'm wrong. I'm wicked.
I get really warm sometimes, and at other times I'm ever so cold. I miss being happy and safe and wicked. I miss being charming. Five times I was charming, apparently. I hear that sentence every day in my head but for the life of me I don't know what it means. I remember a girl, a girl who was pure liquid. I don't know what that means either, but I loved her. I still do. She keeps me sane, or at least getting back to it I think.
Pure liquid.
But she, like so many things, was forbidden. But I was wicked, so it didn't matter. All I wanted was to raise her to my lips and drink, drink until she was dry and my thirst was quenched. Pure liquid. I remember how much it ached to hear that she had fallen. Lots of kids, all getting hurt, and she was one of them. My fault? No, not this time. She was sick, like me, but different. She would get better, she was just frozen in time. Pure liquid turned to ice. She got well again, but by that time I was already gone. I came to live here and now I miss her, she was my love and I miss her.
I couldn't have her because she was under my care, or at least I think she was. I don't see how she could have been, I can't even take care of myself. But I hear that I was in charge… I should have ordered her to love me back, but I couldn't. She was untouchable. I know the red –haired boy wanted her too, but surely not like me. He was far too young to be in love. I wonder if he has her now. She shimmered, pure liquid.
Clever too, that girl. Dark eyes that sparkled like onyx when my back was turned. Always when my back was turned. Everything happened when I wasn't looking, but I think I was always looking at myself. I'm handsome, pure liquid, so why didn't you love me? She would blush when she saw me, and stammer her words, and five times I would smile and people would cheer.
Veils of lilac and pink would surround her on our wedding day, I saw it in my head. She would smile that smile of hers, and I would bow and kiss her lips and I would love her 'til the day I died. I would care for her like no other, no Wheezy ever could, and she would love me because I'm worth it. Five times I am worth it. Her first name sounded like fruit, though it wasn't, like a goddess, though she wasn't. Penelope. Pure Liquid.
Clearwater.