Chapter title taken from the My Chemical Romance song.

Trigger warning: domestic violence, violence, and sexual assault.

Tall dark and handsome was the only way to describe him. He was muscular, built and had an amazing smile-that was the first thing I noticed about him.

I'm not entirely sure how we met, but he knew that I went to a special school. We were allowed to come home during the weekends, and I made sure to hurry home every Friday just to see him for a moment. We never did much, we'd usually go for walks in the park and hang out by ourselves. He never liked me around his friends for some reason, and I never met his parents. We met in the spring of my fourth year. It was his energy that drew me to him, his aura: he oozed confidence, something I always lacked.

"Hello beautiful," he always greeted me. He would move a strand of hair from my face and look into my eyes hungrily, like he wanted me. He had this way of making me feel needed-I always felt so desperately plain at school. No boy had ever liked me before, not one had ever paid me any attention. But somehow he saw me differently, he made me feel pretty, he made me feel wanted, something I had never experienced before. I loved the attention he gave me because it was always us two. He gave me his undivided attention, whispered sweet nothings in my ear, making me smile like no one else had.

And I fell deeply, irreplaceably in love with him.

It was absolutely wonderful for the first few months but then his suggestions came: he thought I would look better if I wore certain clothes, if I did my makeup differently, if I spoke more formally. He would trail behind me when we were out in public, claiming to protect me from strangers, watching as men of all ages ogled me, approached me and made obscene gestures in my way. But he would always show up in time when someone tried to touch me-I was his and no one else's but he loved that others wanted me.

The unhappiness crept in slowly. Maybe it started when he began calling me names. Maybe it started when he started shoving me around, telling me I had overreacted. Or maybe it was the first time he left faint bruises. I can't remember everything.

I never told anyone about what he did, I actually never said a word about having a boyfriend. My parents would say I was too young, and I couldn't tell my friends I was dating a Muggle, they would never speak to me again. So I stayed quiet, using my mom's wand to cover and heal my bruises and scrapes. There had been something telling me what he was doing was wrong, but he truly convinced me that I deserved it.

"You're fucking dumb Rosalind, you know that?"

"No one else will love you."

"No one else will ever want to be with you."

"You're overreacting. That didn't happen."

"It's all in your head."

"You're mine."

"You're nothing without me."

I believed him when he said I was worthless. I believed him when he said no one cared about me, they all just wanted to fuck me but he would always be there to protect me. He convinced me that that was what love was supposed to be, and for some twisted reason I thought he loved me too.

But it only got worse. If I ignored him he'd show up at my house. He followed me for years.

The first time I caught him cheating on me I didn't say anything. I pretended I didn't know, because I was afraid of him when he was upset. The third and fourth time I opened my mouth, and instead of striking me like I thought he would he smiled.

"What are you talking about Rosie? You must've had a bad dream," his voice was so convincing. "You're imagining things. I love you. I would never hurt you."

He moved a strand of hair from my face, looked into my eyes and told me that he loved me, that even though I was crazy and naive he loved me. And somehow he had done it again, convinced me that I was dumb and worthless. So I pretended it never happened. I became very good at that.

I stayed with him for so long because I felt suffocated. I was asphyxiating in a world that no one knew about, a world I couldn't tell was my own concoction or reality. I was lost. I didn't know what to do. The worst part was that no one ever asked me if I was okay, they just assumed I was fine.

He always made me do things to him-filthy things-that I never wanted. No matter how much I begged, I felt I had no choice. And I hated myself so much. But who listens to the silent ones, the ones too afraid to speak? No one does, because no one can see them.

"I missed you," he had told me.

I smiled. "I missed you too."

He climbed through my window without asking for permission as if it was his own house, taking his shoes off, and removing his jacket.

"You know we're not going to do anything right?" I said to him quietly. "I told you before you—"

"Yeah you say that, but you're wearing that?" he said gruffly, ignoring me.

His shirt and torn shorts. I was wearing his shirt.

"I don't want to-"

"It hurts-"

"I don't like this-"

I begged him to stop, pleading through tears in my eyes as I squired to get him off. Instead he looked right into my eyes, covering my mouth with his hand, leaning his torso onto mine so his weight trapped me onto the bed. And I laid there, helpless, paralyzed in fear. Then he laid next to me upon finishing, sighing as if nothing had happened.

"I feel like you're using me," was all I managed to say.

"Use you?" He scoffed. "I love you Rosie, why would I use you? No one else will love you like I do." He stumbled to the dresser. "What's with your weird coin collection?" he asked. I stayed silent, my body in pain. "I'm taking this for gas money. Stop crying. You're lucky to be with me." He crawled back out the window, leaving me crying in my bed, blood soaked through my underwear into the sheets.

It was pathetic that was what it took for me to stop seeing him. I took everything I had to stay away from him. I cried for weeks at school, avoiding everyone. I got sent out of class once for not being able to control my emotions. I couldn't look at anyone in the eye, I couldn't speak without having a panic attack. And no one seemed to notice. I was already invisible at school.

Finally, a former friend of mine named Amelia approached me. I was crying in the bathroom during our lunch hour again. "What's wrong Rosie?" She asked me. "What's been going on?"

I remember looking at her blue eyes I always envied. I didn't want to say anything, but felt I needed to.

I told her quickly what he had done, how horrible my life had been because of him. She had a blank look on her face, as if she was unsure what to say. She patted my head like a dog, and finally asked me, "Well what do you think was going to happen when he came over?" She smiled as if it were a joke. She laughed at my horrified face. "And a Muggle, really Rosie? You could do so much better than that. If what you're saying is true, why didn't you use magic against him?"

My heart dropped in disbelief. "Because I loved him!" I squeaked. "And I thought he loved me too!"

Amelia smiled stiffly, rubbing my arm. "People who love you don't do those kinds of things." She shook her head dramatically, looking at me as if I were a child.

She laughed nervously, unsure what to do. "You should've done something about it, fought back or said no or something. I thought you were better than that." She gave me one last pitiful look, opened the bathroom door and left.

Somehow word spread about what happened to me and the whole school knew. Some thought that I was a victim, a poor excuse of a person who was taken advantage of, but most everyone thought it was my fault, that I should've known better, that I should've fought back. I got made fun of mercilessly because I fell in love with a Muggle and didn't use magic to defend myself.

It seems obvious doesn't it? To use magic when one is in danger? But I was so delusional, so brainwashed that I thought I deserved it. I felt powerless and because of that I never even tried to defend myself.

I wanted to die.

I began to wear baggy clothes, I didn't wash my hair or do my makeup, I hardly spoke at all. I hated showering because when I did I would sit on the floor and cry. I didn't want people to think I was pretty and I most definitely didn't want their sympathy. I went from being depressed and deranged to angry, wanting revenge.

"What's the matter, Morana?" Asked Richard Parks, a boy in my year after school one day on the way to the secret location for the Dueling Club. "Don't you want to come over and hang out? I am Muggleborn you know, I've heard you love them." He flicked his tongue in my direction.

"Why?" My voice was deadly calm, almost singsong.

"Why what?" he asked perplexed, his friends snickering.

"Why would you say that? About me loving Muggles?" My face was still, my hand concealed, holding my wand.

"Well if the rumors are true-"

"So you believe everything you hear?" I took a step closer to him, a bead of sweat rippling down his temple. "You want me to come over and fuck you? Is that what you want?"

Richard opened his mouth, eyeing his friends who were equally as shocked by my words. "If you insist-"

"Duel me," I commanded. "You win, you get to do whatever you want to me. I win, you stay away from me forever."

Richard grinned. "That's a bold proposition."

"So you're in then?" I forced a smile, biting my tongue to not give away my chattering teeth. "No rules. All out. Anything goes."

He glanced at his friends, murmuring their agreement. "Alright then. No disarming or Body Bind Curses. First witch or wizard to get knocked out or is unable to counterattack in five seconds loses."

"Deal."

I made my way to the meeting point separately, not caring to hear the whispers about me. The Dueling Club was extremely informal and not sanctioned by the school-it was more of a fight club where students could beat one another up. Dueling was what kept me sane. When I allowed him to do those terrible things to me I failed myself. I didn't protect myself. I used my free time to study strong magic, mainly offensive, brutal spells because I never wanted to feel that small again.

Our school was tucked away near Native American tribal land, so it was easy for students to sneak away into the dessert. We'd frequently meet near the river where students would bathe in. The blistering sun pierced my skin as I removed my robes, stuffing them into my backpack. A few duels were scheduled ahead of us, but they weren't anything impressive. A lot of kids came to the Dueling Club to show off. Not me. I came to control my anger.

The moderator, a last year student, motioned for us to talk to him. "I've been told this is an all-out duel. I don't want anyone dying so be careful, alright?" We nodded, and he clapped his hands, forcing us to bow, our bodies then turning one-hundred and eighty degrees. With each click of his wand we took a step back, my heart beating rapidly as I figured out my gameplan.

One..two...three.

A red Stunning Spell flew my direction but I stood my ground, holding my wand with both hands as I created a shield, the beam of light clashing with my light blue. I immediately shot him with a bolt of lightning to the chest, his body shivering in convulsions, kicking dust in the air. I waved my wand, the dust now circling him like a tornado, spewing dirt in his face. He coughed, a flame shooting at my shoulder, nearly setting my hair on fire. I doused it, jerking my arm, a large gash slicing his cheek. His eyes widened in shock at what I had done, the dust still circling him.

I groaned, crashing into the dirt as a rock the size of my torso knocked into my ribs. The crowd "oohed" at my pain, giving me the ammunition I needed to stand. I whispered an ancient spell, glaring at the boy who was nursing the blood on his face. He blinked at me in confusion, his eyes snapping to his arms, whose skin appeared to be bubbling. He attempted to scratch and swat them away, the bubbling now engorging his entire body.

"What is this?" he stammered, pinching himself. "Boiling skin?"

I shook my head. "More like creepy crawlies making their way around your insides."

"Crucio!"

My wrist jerked, proving the weakness of his curse. "Stupefy!"

A red jet of light hit him squarely in the chest, knocking Richard into the river, his wand cradling the air.

"One!" the moderator screamed. One of his friends dove for the wand, catching it before it fell into the water.

"Two!" The roaring river showed no signs of life, let alone a boy.

"Three!" My heart thudded-he couldn't have been knocked unconscious, right?

"Four!" Fingertips emerged from the water, a disheveled Richard crawling to the riverbank.

"Five!" A silent firework spurted from the moderator's wand, signaling the end of the duel.

The crowd was breathless, awaiting for the boy to speak. He stood gingerly, blood smeared near his eyebrow. "You used Dark Magic against me."

"So did you," I quipped. "And it was just an illusion. There wasn't anything actually crawling underneath your skin."

He stared at me, as if examining a specimen, still catching his breath. "But it didn't work. Dark Magic isn't like regular magic. You have to really want to cause harm."

"Well I didn't want to lose." I threw my nose in the air, feigning confidence. "And you're alright."

He continued to stare at me like I was sick pygmy puff, with pity. "But are you?"

My jaw quivered. He ordered his friends to leave as I grabbed my backpack, walking into the darkness so no one could see my pain. I ran into the darkest patch of desert I could find, screaming at the top of my lungs, sparks shooting out of my wand. I couldn't control my magic sometimes, not when I was in a rage. It was better if I was always alone.

I became well-known for being a duelist. I relished in the idea that I rarely lost, but since our little Dueling Club was informal, I'd often lose from being ambushed. I had no friends but I was okay with that-I didn't want to talk about what happened to me because if I did then I would have to acknowledge it actually happened. Instead I internalized the pain and lashed out during duels. It was the only way I was able to cope.

Soon after graduating and before I left for El Salvador, I had the sudden urge to see him. I needed closure, to forgive him for what he did. I was convinced he was sick, diseased, that he didn't realize what he did was wrong.

"Rosie?" His voice was pleasantly surprised. "I thought you disappeared. What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood," I said, coming up with the first pretense I could think of. "I just graduated and thought I would say hi."

He grinned at me, glad that I thought about him. He didn't even look handsome to me anymore: that smile that I loved, those strong arms that I admired looked average to me now. Dull. I wondered what I ever saw in him.

"So," he said as he sat on his couch, not offering me a seat. "What has Rosalind been up to since the day she thought she could leave me?"

I scoffed. He was the same pretentious bastard. I took a seat next to him, observing my surroundings. There were bottles of alcohol everywhere, with needles and bongs scattered all over the floor.

"Same old, same old," I said, crossing my legs, facing him. "What about you?"

He spread his arms around the back of the couch, putting his masculinity on display. He always had to be in control. "Living the life," he slithered his head back and forth like a snake, speaking in that arrogant tone I hated. "I graduated, I'm working and just chilling, you know?"

"You're not going to school?" I asked. I remembered that he had ambitions to be an architect.

"Nah, I don't need school." He grinned, staring me down with that starving look I used to love. "So what are you really doing here? You come here to apologize?"

"For what?" I almost yelled. "I wanted to talk to you."

He leaned forward, drumming his fingers on the couch. "About what?"

"About us." I held my breath, my hands beginning to shake. "About what you did to me."

He opened his mouth but didn't say anything. "And what do you think I did to you?"

My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe he thought I was joking.

"What you did to me...all those times," I began nervously. "It was wrong." I held my breath. "I didn't want to do those things to you. I didn't want to sleep with you the last night you came over."

He grinned, that malicious, devilish grin I used to love. "Rosie you have to understand something-you got what you deserved. You're soft. I did those things to you because I knew you weren't going to do anything about it." He laughed coldly, standing up. He loved the dumbfounded and shocked expression on my face, walking over to me slowly. "I don't know what it is you think I did to you, but it's all in your head."

I froze again, like I always did. I could feel the knot forming in my throat from the verbal blow. He picked me up from the chair, slowly pressing me against the wall.

"You missed it didn't you?" he breathed down my neck. "You missed me being all over you? Couldn't stay away, huh?"

I forced away the tears that were about to stream down my face and instinctively drew out my wand. He saw my weapon and laughed. "What is that, a magic stick? You don't really believe in magic do you?"

"Don't touch me," I warned him. "Touch me and I will fucking kill you."

"Kill me?" He smirked. "Don't be so dramatic. You don't have it in you anyways." He was an inch away from my face, giving me that familiar look that he meant business.

"Crucio!"

His body slammed on the floor; his limbs jerked back and forth, contouring in pain. He looked absolutely horrified. Apologies spurted out of his mouth, gasping for air.

"You're sorry?" I spat. "Now you're fucking sorry?" I laughed cruelly. I stared at his horrified face, stained with fear and misery. "Crucio!"

His nerves were on fire: I could see the pained expression on his face, how his body twitched uncontrollably. And I laughed. It was elating to see him in pain. He fucking deserved it. Without thinking, I raised my wand once more.

"Avada Kedavra!"

I let out a dumbfounded breath, staring at his lifeless body for what seemed like an eternity. What had I done?

My head was throbbing, my stomach pulsing into my ribs. I gripped the edge of the wall, sinking to the ground in disbelief in an attempt to stop myself from retching. I had fantasized about this moment for years but I never thought it would actually happen. I didn't think I was capable of murder.

I raised my wand, knowing I needed to finish the job as fast as I could. I Transfigured his body, shrinking it to the size of a cat. No one would miss a stray, I thought. No one would miss him either, he was a pathetic excuse for a human being. I dumped the body next to a dumpster, where it would be tossed away with the rest of the garbage.

I thought this was how I would heal, by defeating the ghost of my past. The remainder of the day was a slow blur, but once I returned to my routine I no longer felt guilty. I felt free. He was gone. He couldn't hurt anyone anymore.

So this was a long waited and probably overdue chapter, but I felt that this was the correct time for it to be placed. Rosalind is not the innocent character that we met in the first chapter, she might be a little sadistic but she is very traumatized. I hope the flashbacks are okay, I'm trying to place them in areas that correlate with the story. As always, thank you for reading! Next chapter has a lot of drama :)

Next chapter: The (After) Life of the Party.