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BAD END

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BAD END

Post by Pure Song on 26th May 2015, 8:50 pm

Bad girl.

She was a bad girl. She really was.

Roz sat in the darkness, staring at her mirror silently. It was often this way when she was home alone now. She just curled up silently in her room when her father was away, avoiding the wrath of Will. He hated her, she knew, and she couldn’t say that she blamed him. He hated her because of how bad she was.

What horrible person she was. She’d messed up so badly, so many times. And it was leaving her to be alone, lost in this great big world she only half belonged to. She was only half magical, and grew up completely unexposed to magic until she was eight, when her magic exploded out of her. She was alone in that, and slowly, as she fought to understand the two worlds she half belonged to, people were leaving her behind.

Daddy was leaving her behind. He was always busy working, she didn’t blame him. It cost a lot to raise three children alone; Will was in college, and Henry primary school, soon to be Hogwarts based on the magic she saw in him. He had to put food on the table, a roof over their heads, gas in his car….she didn’t blame him for pulling away.

Aidan was pulling away from her. He was always working now, and when he wasn’t he didn’t seem to want to see her. His eyes went sad every time he saw her, and she didn’t understand why. He wouldn’t confide in her anymore, and was focusing on little Henry a lot more. Not that she blamed him. Henry was clumsy and needed help a lot, and she wasn’t the cute little kid she’d used to be. It wasn’t his fault he was pulling away.

Caius barely acknowledged her. Ever since his accident, he was so focused on working hard, caring for everyone. She knew his heart was broken - the one he loved would never return it - but she couldn’t bring it up. How could she? If he knew she knew, he might panic….she couldn’t tell him she understood, that it hurt so bad your chest might pop. Caius was too far away. Not that she blamed him. What he’d went through was terrible, and the heartache surely didn’t help. How could she blame him?

Will’s raging below made her wince, and she whimpered, magically flicking her lock shut. No more, no more…! She couldn’t take him yelling at her, hitting her, telling her how bad she was. She glanced at her mirror, seeing the words he’d scrawled there. She could scourgify them off, but she’d already done that so many times. It was pointless to try anymore. She’d clean before her father saw, at least then he’d think her a good girl.

Her nails dug into her thighs, digging ruts in deep into the oft-scarred skin. Little lacerations covered her thighs, rarely healed. She didn’t let them heal, picking the scabs off to keep them open when she was upset. They scarred, crescent little half-moons all over her thighs as if a cat had torn her thighs apart. She hated it. She hated her ugly thighs. But the digging helped, in some ways, gave her an outlet that she wouldn’t be questioned for. She didn’t want questions. She couldn’t cause issues.

She had to be a good girl.

Casey had pulled away. Casey, her dear friend, was always smiling, chattering about Grace. Grace this, Grace that, how pretty she was, how gorgeous she could be, the way she lit up….and Roz couldn’t help but smile for him, despite how every word was a blow to her heart. She could never tell him how much she loved him. It wasn’t her place. He was happy with her, and he deserved that happiness. So she kept her mouth shut, didn’t tell him about Will. Didn’t tell him how she felt. Just smiled. Grace was gorgeous, after all, nothing like the mousey little blonde with flashing hair tips. No wonder he pulled away. She didn’t blame him.

How could she blame him? She was such a bad girl. She was bad.

Roz was never meant to be good.

Letting go of her bleeding thighs, she reached for her medicine, quietly opening the liquid. It was a cough syrup she’d had a few months ago for her bronchitis, to help her not cough or choke. It had coedine in it. It had knocked her out so well, she liked how she slept dreamlessly. So instead of getting rid of it when she was better, she kept it. She knew the proper dosage to knock herself out, wrap herself in dreamless sleep.

But what harm would a little more than normal do? She just wanted to sleep longer. She wanted to sleep until Will left, until it was time to go back to Hogwarts. A little more never hurt anyone, right? She looked at her sallow appearance in the mirror; bruised eye, cut cheek. There were pinchmarks and bruises up and down her arms and sides. She sighed, shaking her head.

How many spoons did she take? Enough, she decided, and she lay back on her bed, trembling. She was so tired. Roz just couldn’t do this for long, she had to be good but this hurt, tore at what she had left.

Will had left the real her behind. All he saw was something to punch, to pinch, to take out his feelings on. Perhaps the real Willie had left with Mummy, and this version of him was just a Boggart come to tear her apart.

Mummy had left her behind. She hated her for being a bad girl. Magic was bad. So since Roz was magic, Roz was bad. And Roz could never be good.

Her chest wracked with sobs, but she found it was heavy, hard to sob. Good. That meant sleep was coming. She idly wondered what she should do when she woke. Probably use a glamour to hide the bruises. No need to make anyone worry. She had to clean, too, not let Daddy know what had happened. Perhaps she should write Aidan, ask how he was….maybe it would make him smile….

Her eyelids flickered, and an oppressive sense of black overcame her. It felt heavy, hard to breathe, like when she’d fallen and hit her chest. She coughed weakly, wondering why it was heavier this time. She didn’t know what to do to clear her throat, but it must just be the meds. She didn’t mind. Maybe the weight was a good thing, meant she’d sleep longer. She hoped so. She wanted to sleep until it was good to wake….

She could hear the door downstairs open, heard a familiar voice call her name, but Roz was beyond answering. Really she was beyond anything but a small sense of longing for the voice to smile. All she could do was stare idly at the ceiling, wondering as the darkness slowly crept over her vision.

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Re: BAD END

Post by Tyler on 26th May 2015, 9:05 pm

Ouch. Painful angst. The power of what ifs. I liked it though Pure.

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