Hellllo everyone! It has been a while a long long while since I have been
to fanfiction but I am here and I was in a writing mood so here ya go!
Hermione.
The girl that is perfect.
She gets perfect grades, she has a perfect life, she has perfect everything.
Atleast it always seemed that way.
When she's alone, Hermione is a very different person, no longer perfect.
She hides her pain in her books and behind her homework.
She shields her cuts from the world, so one will know that Hermione, the girl with
everything going for her, the girl that is so perfect in ever way, is not as perfect as she
seems.
#
Midnight.
Hermione lied in bed, tucked under her covers, eyes closed tight, hoping it won't happen again.
But then she hears it.
The sound of her door opening, slowly. She fears this time of the night. She could hear his soft footsteps make their way to the side of her. And then the weight shift as he climbed into her bed. He put his hands on her hips and sucked on her neck.
Even though she didn't want him here, doing this to her again, she had no choice, He never stopped. Whenever she said No, he ignored. There was no way around it.
He turned her over so now she was facing the ceiling. Then, he gently pulled down her shorts and underwear. Then, without her consent, he spread her legs and got in between her. As he fully enjoyed himself, Hermione cringed with pain and suffering, he made it hurt so bad to her. Silently, tears started to stream down her face, but in the dark, they were invisible, just like her pain. Once he was done with her, he gave her a peck on the cheek, got out from under her covers and walked to the door, turning the knob and walking out. But before he shut the door behind him, she heard him say:
"'Night Hermione."
Through her tears and her pain and her weakness, she chocked out the words weakly.
""Night dad."
#
She could never sleep after these encounters. She couldn't sleep feeling the pain deep down in the pit of her stomach and the emotional pain leaking in her heart. How could he do this to her?
He was her father.
He had done this ever since she started at Hogwarts, 5 years ago, and till now, it still hurt. It was so had to look at him during the day, to see his face, to talk to him, knowing what he did just the other night. This only made her cry more. There was only one way Hermione delt with pain like this, only one thing that could take it all away, her shiny silver knife.
One of her most priced possessions, she would be lost without it.
It cut through her pain and let it flow out, out of her body, but only temporarily. The pain would never really be gone, only when she died would the pain disappear and tonight seemed like a good night for it. She opened her nightstand drawer and searched deep in the back. Finally, she pulled out a tiny black box. She opened the latch and lifted the top, reveiling her knife.
Her best friend.
The one that made her problems drift away into oblivion. She lifted the knife out, and in doing so, made a almost silent clicking sound, which was the most comforting sounds the had left. Then, without hesitation, he placed the knife on her skin and dug deep. Slice after slice after slice, she cut and cut and cut till she though the pain was out. In the dark she lied again, face to the ceiling, lost in the hunger for more. More pain to release pain. It seemed like all she was feeling was out, in her blood.
She wanted to see, see what she had done, her art.
She hobbled to the bathroom, still sore from him, and clicked on the light in her bathroom. The blinding light hit her face and she had to close her eyes. As her eyes accustomed, she stared in the mirror. Tear stains colored her pale face. She looked down at her arms, which were bright red and pulsing. So long, so deep, so painful but so soothing. She put her finger in the puddle of blood that started to form on her arm and smeared it on the mirror. A memorial sign of her hurt and how she dealed with it. She took one last look at them, their beautifulness to her. She flicked off the light and climbed into bed once more. Now she could sleep, knowing that her pain was gone and it was replaced with bliss, utter bliss was her tourniquet.
I know its really really kinda disturbing, but please just review and tell me what u think so I know if I should continue.
Hermione.
The girl that is perfect.
She gets perfect grades, she has a perfect life, she has perfect everything.
Atleast it always seemed that way.
When she's alone, Hermione is a very different person, no longer perfect.
She hides her pain in her books and behind her homework.
She shields her cuts from the world, so one will know that Hermione, the girl with
everything going for her, the girl that is so perfect in ever way, is not as perfect as she
seems.
#
Midnight.
Hermione lied in bed, tucked under her covers, eyes closed tight, hoping it won't happen again.
But then she hears it.
The sound of her door opening, slowly. She fears this time of the night. She could hear his soft footsteps make their way to the side of her. And then the weight shift as he climbed into her bed. He put his hands on her hips and sucked on her neck.
Even though she didn't want him here, doing this to her again, she had no choice, He never stopped. Whenever she said No, he ignored. There was no way around it.
He turned her over so now she was facing the ceiling. Then, he gently pulled down her shorts and underwear. Then, without her consent, he spread her legs and got in between her. As he fully enjoyed himself, Hermione cringed with pain and suffering, he made it hurt so bad to her. Silently, tears started to stream down her face, but in the dark, they were invisible, just like her pain. Once he was done with her, he gave her a peck on the cheek, got out from under her covers and walked to the door, turning the knob and walking out. But before he shut the door behind him, she heard him say:
"'Night Hermione."
Through her tears and her pain and her weakness, she chocked out the words weakly.
""Night dad."
#
She could never sleep after these encounters. She couldn't sleep feeling the pain deep down in the pit of her stomach and the emotional pain leaking in her heart. How could he do this to her?
He was her father.
He had done this ever since she started at Hogwarts, 5 years ago, and till now, it still hurt. It was so had to look at him during the day, to see his face, to talk to him, knowing what he did just the other night. This only made her cry more. There was only one way Hermione delt with pain like this, only one thing that could take it all away, her shiny silver knife.
One of her most priced possessions, she would be lost without it.
It cut through her pain and let it flow out, out of her body, but only temporarily. The pain would never really be gone, only when she died would the pain disappear and tonight seemed like a good night for it. She opened her nightstand drawer and searched deep in the back. Finally, she pulled out a tiny black box. She opened the latch and lifted the top, reveiling her knife.
Her best friend.
The one that made her problems drift away into oblivion. She lifted the knife out, and in doing so, made a almost silent clicking sound, which was the most comforting sounds the had left. Then, without hesitation, he placed the knife on her skin and dug deep. Slice after slice after slice, she cut and cut and cut till she though the pain was out. In the dark she lied again, face to the ceiling, lost in the hunger for more. More pain to release pain. It seemed like all she was feeling was out, in her blood.
She wanted to see, see what she had done, her art.
She hobbled to the bathroom, still sore from him, and clicked on the light in her bathroom. The blinding light hit her face and she had to close her eyes. As her eyes accustomed, she stared in the mirror. Tear stains colored her pale face. She looked down at her arms, which were bright red and pulsing. So long, so deep, so painful but so soothing. She put her finger in the puddle of blood that started to form on her arm and smeared it on the mirror. A memorial sign of her hurt and how she dealed with it. She took one last look at them, their beautifulness to her. She flicked off the light and climbed into bed once more. Now she could sleep, knowing that her pain was gone and it was replaced with bliss, utter bliss was her tourniquet.
I know its really really kinda disturbing, but please just review and tell me what u think so I know if I should continue.