The Black Sisters

twenty-one

TW: trauma, mental breakdown, self harm, blood (not to much)

Time does fly doesn't it?

When you're happy time goes by like a shooting star crosses the sky.

Dorea felt as if the world was slowly collapsing in on her.

She didn't know the feeling, it was new to her.

Darling sat on her feet as she hyper ventilated on her bed. Her house empty.

No one to come save her from the inevitable darkness that was slowly pulling her into the deep void.

Her packed bag sat in front of her as she sat there wanting to die.

She hadn't talked to Narcissa once since christmas break, she hadn't gotten a single letter from mother or father or Bella.

The floor crumbled beneath her and she felt the ceiling fall on her chest as Darling jumped off her feet.

Darling jumped onto the bed and sat beside her.

"no no no no no Darling you can't be here." she whispered. Dorea had snuck Darling in her backpack home. Darling couldn't live at Hogwarts especially not for 3 months.

Dorea looked around the room frantically she grabbed a few blankets and pillows and chucked them into a closet. It was a rather large closet, it had a small window and it was fairly hidden from the outside.

Darling walked in there and curled up, Dorea then set down her food in a corner and all the evidence she had a cat in the closet. A small burrier keeping Darling from clawing at the door and keeping her out of view if someone did open the door.

Dorea contiued to hyperventilate now alone. They had sent the house elf to pick her up and Narcissa was no where to be seen. The house was rarely empty but today it was besides the house elves in the basement.

Dorea used to like the silence but now it felt unbearable.

Dorea was to be used to being alone but now she felt as if she'd pass out.

Dorea used to be used to this, to people ignoring her, to people hitting her.

What changed?

She learned how people treat others, she learned that when she was at Hogwarts she was home.

This was nothing more than an old distant memory of a home.

This place was nothing more than a dreaded space that she wished she could burn down.

Dorea walked out of her room and down the stairs. Down to the ground floor. She wandered about looking at portraits of stern looking people.She walked into her drawing room and was surrounded by the Black Family tree. She drug her finger over the branches to her.

The pictures were enchanted to grow with us but are based on a photo you take. Dorea had a smudge on her forehead and her eyes were looking else where. She was smiling and looked genuinly happy.

When her sisters actually cared, and when her parents didn't.

Her parents never cared for her exactly but now more than ever they cared for what she did. They cared what path she stepped on and controlled everything, they held her like a puppet on strings.

They held her like a doll in a doll house.

Being the master of her and her life.

She hated them.