Here's the next chapter~ I hope you like it. Any reviews are appreciated. If you spot any grammatical or spelling errors, just tell me and I'll be more than happy to fix them. Cookies for everyone!

21st July, 2009

I'm back. As much as it hurts in my heart to say those two words, it is the harsh truth of reality. I don't know what to do anymore; I feel as though part of myself has been ripped away from, disregarded as some offending material. It brings those all-too-familiar tears to my eyes; the same as the ones I cried in front of…Draco. The name feels as if there's some hidden weight to it, just like the way you'd say an old friend of yours. I can't bring myself to open my already glassy eyes; it's too hard to face the now.

A world without Draco is not a world worth living in.

I can't do this. Not now. My cowardice overpowers any ounce of bravery I have as I kneel at the ground, the pavement bringing melancholy memories to the front of my mind. I hear a voice, that voice….to whom it belongs to?

"You'll see me…too late it will be, but I am somewhere here, waiting for us to meet again except…I'm in a different life…." The familiar monotonous French drawl overpowers my sense of vulnerability, and in a last attempt to stand, I arise again from the ground, head in my hands, as my feet take me back to where I lived; my life before all this happened. Before I fell. Every ounce of my emotion turns to sorrow; it's only a matter of time before I go insane – heck… – I already am.

6th August, 2009

Why am I still like this? It's been more than a week since that day…that day I fell. I need to stop reminding myself of this – it's only burying me deeper into the abyss of depression that has clouded my rational thoughts. Ever since…..I've been living my life, with the utmost reluctance anyone could ever muster. At first, I refused to accept it – it's not real, it can't be…..I must be insane…. After two days of locking myself up in my apartment and refusing to do or see anything or anyone, I received a barrage of calls asking about my absence. It was all there – my life, my friends… It took me a while to become so aloof with everything I did and I finally accepted it. I needed to move on. Every night I tried to sleep, I woke up, the image of…..him... in my arms and whispering that proclamation of love and grief too much for me to hear. My heart longed for that French drawl to accompany me – as annoying as it was – it reminded me of him… I haven't said his name in so long; I refused to say it, for whenever I said it, it felt as though someone sliced some sick parody of a tally mark, marking it as a defeat against the depression, the grief…..

I had all that I ever wanted in my arms that time, only to be swept away by the cold reality of time and how nothing is forever.

23rd August, 2009

Ever single day is like a war. My life is a battlefield in which it tries to break down all the willpower I had invested in my veins; the memories of him are the only things that keep me sane anymore, as humorous as it sounds. Everywhere I turn, searching for those blue-speckled eyes taunts me…..They are nowhere to be found. I found myself trying to think, brooding in my usual chair, at the usual time, refusing to eat or move. I had all these questions…..How did he know I had to go? I always end up crying myself to sleep afterwards, faced with the cold slap of him so close to me.

And then I wake up again, restarting the cycle of grief and depression. It forces me to face everything and all the questions. Always the same one.

Are you ok?
Yeah, I'm totally fine with these deceiving red-rimmed eyes and a permanent dead look in my eyes. I'm FINE.

Do they care?
No.

It's brings a cold humor to me as something so trivial such as a question could be the only thing needed to break up that strong resolve. I need to move on…I can't be hung up on this forever.

And that's the truth I don't want to face, yet I still need to. It's only a matter of time.

8th December, 2009

Ahh, it's been a couple of months. It's been so long since I thought of him, but…..but now, he just feels like an old memory; something that has sunk down, buried underneath a strong resolve of denial. I heard a weird saying today and as I recall, the conversation went a little bit like this:

"You look as though you are in mourn of something that you refuse to face," a cold, firm tone snapped my attention back to reality, meeting the analyzing gaze of amethyst eyes. This man – whoever he was – somehow knew how I felt with just a look. Long, styled strands of black hair framed his face in an intricate manner; he was all sharp angles and personal humor – arrogance included; a strong intellectual smirk was plastered on his face as I met his hard gaze with a huff of indignity.
"And how do you know that?" I snapped sharply, a sweeping gaze of cantankerous emotion washed across my face in an animalistic fashion; How dare he see past my guard. Who is he to know how I am feeling?!
He only laughed at my response; a cold and hollow chuckle, devoid of warmth – almost condescendingly – then narrowed his eyes into slits at me in utter seriousness. He regarded me closely, a wave of indifference accompanying his every move. "Someone told me denial is some sort of cruel parody of emotional cancer. You either cut it out – or die."
His features softened then, the first warm emotion I've seen from this stranger.
"I'm a psychiatrist; I notice these things. I'm sorry if I stepped into your personal life, I was merely marking an important observation and by the looks of it, you needed it. You can thank me later."
With that, he turned away and blended himself into the crowds; a silent goodbye.

I was left wondering the same thing. I need to stop the denial.

21st July, 2010

It's the anniversary of my meeting with…him; it's been a hard, struggling year for me. Every day, I can feel myself slip into the grip of insanity that has already wound itself into my life; I was blind to succumb to the feeling of hopelessness in my thoughts – as if I was drowning myself in a pool of my own misery. I, surprisingly, don't feel that weight on my shoulders when I think of him anymore; instead, I feel a fluttery jump in my chest as I remember the warmth in his beautiful grey eyes that held the glints of blue from an expensive diamond – I remember that jittery fear I had of losing him when he embraced me, holding my delicate frame flush against his – I remember that confession.

"I love you too," he whispered into my ear, hot breath tickling the sensitive skin on my neck before he embraced me one last time.
One last time.

I've stared out of this cold window everyday; it has become a ritual of mine whenever I thought of him… It's not fair – why couldn't I stay there, in 1597? I still remember those words I thought distinctly in my mind when I left him -

A life without Draco is not worth living.

To me, it's true; every word of it – as insane as it sounds. I've made up my mind. I'd rather die than suffer through this grief that I've learned to let myself get caught up in. A knife clutched in my trembling right hand, I've accepted my fate. Without a second thought, I plunged the knife deep into my chest – the root of all my pain; I accepted the darkness of peace with open arms.

One last needy breath escaped my bitten lips as I allowed myself to say his name.

"Draco…"

"What have you done?!" a voice shouted, laced with anger – a voice that I haven't heard for a year.
"Draco….?" I said his name hesitantly; the word felt foreign on my tongue after the many months I refused myself to speak it – even think it. It had a certain burden attached to it; a piece of my heart had been permanently sewn onto it.
"You idiot! Death won't accomplish you anything – didn't you figure that out?" the cantankerous voice hissed, dripping with venom.
"Wait, what?" I asked, oblivious and dumbfounded to the very question; it was as if he was speaking a foreign language. I simply did not understand.
"I'm here, somewhere – I'm in a different life than before," he stated in an informative tone, anger cooling down.
"How…..?" My eyes twinkled; after a year of pain and loneliness, I had hope for the first time in forever.
"Re-incarnation," he left, the French drawl echoing itself away into the shades.

24th July, 2010

I woke up in an empty hospital bed – typical; clinical, boxed-in walls surrounded me like a prison as I heard the steady beep of a monitor next to me. I've learnt to be not surprised by whatever happens – so much has happened already that I'm sick of being surprised by everything. Hence, I've just learned to accept it. Did I just say 'hence'? I guess I still think I'm in 1597. Idiot. I let myself lay there, eyes open. Words tumbled themselves over in my mind as I heard the voices in my mind repeating that conversation – almost mocking me.

I'm here somewhere. I'm in a different life.

Why didn't I figure it out sooner? I'm an idiot. It was all there for me, laid out to figure out but I was too trapped in my own misery to notice or care. All that mattered was how I felt – I was so selfish. A wave of guilt thudded in my chest as I looked at my abdomen; a row of stitches lined themselves across it – intricately holding the skin together.

I've survived.

It was somehow all there for me – done like a puzzle. A certain click of the door signaled someone's presence and I tensed up on the bed, bolting upright. A certain flash of amethyst eyes caught mine before I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. I tore one of stitches. A wave of curses fell from my regularly bitten lips and the owner of the amethyst eyes 'tsked' unapprovingly.

"You, of all people should know better," a familiar, hollow voice greeted me and my ears twitched at the sound – heat rushed to them uncontrollably. I refused to answer him as I saw the black strands of hair combed into that same hairstyle I saw him in almost half a year ago. "You look horrible."
"That's nice." My voice dripped with sarcasm as I huffed at the man. "I'm insane. Leave me alone."
"It's great that you're insane," he chuckled coldly – his voice was devoid of emotion. "I'm a psychiatrist; don't you remember when we met?"
"Go away – I don't need you," I insisted irritably. "I'm insane enough as it is."
"Alright – I'll discharge you," he snickered all of the sudden, as if in his own private joke. "After your wounds heal. All that I'm going to say from the look on your face is that death is a worthless accomplishment. It's only a matter of time before you are forced to die again and again – might as well make this one count."

I looked at him incredulously – wondering idly – what the hell he meant.

8th September, 2010

I was discharged from the hospital – just like he promised. The wounds healed – of course – but my mind was restless.

Re-incarnation.

The doctor implied it in a philosophical way, but it made sense with what Draco said to me when I was asleep. I have hope now; I just hope that it isn't false. So, if what they both said is true, Draco is alive. Somewhere, someplace, sometime.

I need to find him.