Chaotic Forbiddance

We sat in silence for barely a minute, before it was broken by the miniscule clamor of his vocal vibrations:

“I’m no psychologist… But it seems as if you are remorseful that you don’t deal with your problems in the same way that she did.” Gerard wasn’t a psychologist, and I didn’t want one, can’t he just leave me be? Can’t people just let me wither away and die? Is it really that hard to let a stupid girl, who is nobody’s nothing, pass into the ether?

“I’m no mental patient, but it seems as if I don’t care, I’ve failed her, and I would rather not live with that, it doesn’t make me some emo or anything, so why are you even bothering?”

“You’re obviously off your rocker if you think that anyone could ever be disappointed in you.” He looked at me with such sincerity in his benign hazel eyes, that I nearly let myself believe him. I built more metaphorical walls around my frail human heart, to defend it from the painful eventuality that it would shatter like the glass that had perched so precariously upon Ron’s head just a few moments ago.

“It takes one to know one.” I looked away from him, so that I could not see him disprove his own point when disappointment would fog hisbeautiful eyes.

“Don’t be like that, please, Fate. I know that I wasn’t even disappointed in you, when you went and pulled this, even though I had talked to you about it, and easily let you pull a thick wool over my eyes. I’m frustrated in myself, because I couldn’t convince you to save yourself, even with the imminent threat of detention.” True, I had been deceiving all of my new friends, but I didn’t want to cause them harm, which was why I hid my infirmity from them. He wasn’t my friend though, he had shown that quite plainly whilst ignoring my offered help when he actually depended on it, he didn’t care.

Did he?

“You couldn’t convince me to live because I’ve been set in my ways of suicide for quite a while, no one could break a stolid regime of pain. No matter how many detentions I get. I’m not invulnerable, and I’m sick of people telling me that I can be strong and live through the shit everyone puts me through. I just can’t, plain and simple. If they don’t get over it, they are going to be in even more pain when I…” He placed his hand over my mouth, saying sternly:

“That’s where I draw the line; none of us is going to let you waste your life.” He seemed so sure that this would help, but oh, how wrong he was.

“But can’t you see? My life has already been wasted beyond saving, there’s nothing left, nothing to let go of, only dust and an empty shell.”

“How are you gone? You are a beautiful young woman with the coolest hair I’ve seen in a while,” I looked in disgust at my disheveled wine-red hair, with black roots that had been coming in recently. “You’ve got an actual brain, unlike some of the idiots that run around now-a-days; you’ve got something that no one else has.” I had to give him this; he was great at the paltry game of deceit.

“There are plenty of pretty, smart girls, and I’m obviously not one of them. But even so, what do I have that no one else has: a trashed immune system? An eating disorder? Massive issues? Abusive parents? Huh? What do I actually have that’s worth living for? Tell me, because I’d really like to hear whatever lie you dream up.” I challenged him, a long-gone fire returning in my eyes, and an unreserved passion for hating my life welling up inside of my chest. He was silent.

“Exactly.”

“No,” he said, speaking up after a moments’ silence, “You have talent, you can sing, you can play guitar, you have a fair hand at spells, and you have presence. Whenever you walk into a room people see you, no matter where they’re at, they look at you, because you warrant copious amounts of attention.” I was silent, how could he think that I was special? I genuinely listened to every single sweet syllable that made its way out of his luscious mouth; he truly was being entirely honest.

“You’re great.” He rested his hand on mine, sending a quiver up the length of every single nerve, an electrical current swept through my weak body, something was special about this bare brush of his skin against mine. The friction seemed to force our hands to clasp together, even though we had no reason to hold hands, especially since mine were handcuffed to the bed, because of my “suicidal tenancies.” I looked briefly into Gee’s shining eyes, and realized that I was referring to him by his first name again. I also realized, while seeing the lights reflect softly in the caramel pools that seemed to have a new look in them.

I severely doubt that I am going to have suicidal tendencies again, but my body does still have a physical issue with the digestion of food and is now severely weakened by my ill care of it in the past few years. Yes, ladies and gents, I have been barely eating for years, I’ve only fainted once before, but that was after my parents… The immense pain of that night filled my head and I relived the entire experience.

“You didn’t get a letter from Hogwarts? Beauxbatons? Anything!!!” My father yelled at me on July 31, on my eleventh year of living with my miserable parents in my dank dark house, where I was tormented by ghosts that had no sense of happiness, and didn’t during their living years either. You see, that man, who raped my nana, I refused to call him an ancestor of mine, he became a ghost. My father, who had been searching for him, in the first place, didn’t even know, the man came out and whispered horrible things in my ear, about what he did to my great-gran, in excruciating detail.

“Well, answer you filthy whore! Do you have nothing to say for yourself, squib?” He spat on my face with his tar and smoke embraced lips, he grasped my wrist, making me gasp in pain. He put a cigarette in his dirty mouth and lit it, he took a deep breath, then took the cancer-stick out of his mouth, and pressed it to the softest skin on my wrist, causing a circular burn mark; he continued the process, over and over again, in the same place, in different places. All painful places.

“You have disrespected the family honor; we’re still pretending to be pure-bloods! Do you see what this could do to our reputation?” It was always about their reputation, which was what they always yelled at me about, why was it so important to them? Who told them that they had to be so perfect?

“I’ll make you see then!” He slapped my face with his free hand, the long ago burned-out fag lay discarded on the floor, as I lay next to it, and Italian loafers relentlessly kicked my sides, breaking ribs, I eventually coughed up some blood, Dad left. Mom came in and gave me one last kick and a muttered oath that sounded something like: “Fat bitch.” But my head and senses were too far gone by then to hear properly. My senses were curtained by shadow.

I looked at my wrist, where I could still see the scar from only three years ago; it was getting cut into by the cold metal handcuffs. I let myself look back at Gerard, but realized that a tear had made its slow path down my cheek, he wiped it off with one soft hand, but a ruckus in the hall brought us from the bliss of our shared moment, and back to the real world. The harsh world.

The headmaster walked in, before him: two boys held by the scruff of their necks, in mid-air, by what I assumed was magic. The two boys in question were a stark contrast to each other, like salt and sugar, Draco and Mikey.

“Professor Way, your brother was just fighting with Mr. Malfoy, here. Mr. Way was winning, if it makes any difference to you.” I smirked; the boy could be fierce if given enough provocation.

“He insulted you.” Mikey murmured, looking down, which was near impossible in his current position, well, I heard that he can slam revolving doors, so it’s not that shocking. Mikey was fine except for a scratch over his left eyebrow. Malfoy was bleeding severely from the nose; I could swear that a tear trickled out of his bloodshot eyes. Milky Way got him good!

“While Madam Pomfrey tends to these two misnomers, I assume that you can sort out their punishment?” He directed this to Gerard, he nodded, patting my hand briefly, Malfoy looked at this suspiciously, “Getting it on with the teacher, emo?” Dumbledore moved his hand slightly, which seemed to roughen the magical grip on the assholes’ body, making his already bruised face contort further with pain.

“Ms. Farice, if I could have a moment with you?” I nodded glumly.

Oh, great, a little chat with the most influential person in this school, won’t that be fun?