Scars 🗝 F. W.

16. Awakening

Hello me,                                                                           December 30th 1998

Well fuck. Just fuck. I didn't write yesterday because, of what I'm about to tell you, you already know. Rita Skeeter published it. How can you be that shallow it's private and with the pictures of all the scars too!

I wish I could snap that deep shits neck in half and watch her bleed.

I was about to write to Constance then wrote to Hermione instead, Constance would be a wreck I assumed, and I was basically right.

I'm going to try and visit. I have too. I will storm into that medieval hell whole if I have too.

I'm leaving clippings of the article with this letter.

It's disgusting.

Rita Skeeter should be punished, but of course she never ends up getting punished for anything.

Fuck.

-

She slowly opened her eyes to a white ceiling; she was lying on something. She wasn't in the dormitories she didn't think.

She twisted her neck then grunted at the sudden pain in her throat and chest.

"Constance?"

She grunted again, brought up her hand to her chest, it was throbbing, and her throat felt like she swallowed sandpaper.

A figure towered over her then another three, she thought. She blinked her eyes her vision was blurry, and she didn't really understand where she was.

"she's awake!" it was Hermione's voice.

She adjusted her eyes and realised Hermione, Nott, Malfoy and Zabini where leaning over her. Why where the boys here? Where was she? Why did she feel so, so calm? She was never calm.

She tried to speak then croaked and reached for her throat. She rubbed it then attempted again.

"w-wha

Then it all came flooding back, the newspaper, the letter, Rita Skeeter, the bathroom, the blood

Her eyes widened slightly, and Hermione took her hand.

"It's all right Constance"

She tried to adjust herself to sit up then immediately winced.

"the fuck" she murmured.

"do you remember?" it was Nott.

She nodded. She definitely did.

"what's the date" she croaked.

"thirtieth" Zabini's voice.

"oh, I thought it was the twenty eighth" she said hoarsely, hardly sounding like herself.

"you where out cold" Malfoys voice.

"my chest" she croaked; she was meant to say more but couldn't.

"yes, you where really sick like you wouldn't stop throwing up and apparently you have been being sick occasionally over the month according to madam Pomfrey she said it wore your lungs a bit and your throat making the blood come out too" Hermione said stroking her hand.

"oh" is all she managed.

"why am I so calm? Like it's weird" she whispered.

Nott snorted, "some drip she gave you"