Us ; George Weasley

Seventy-two

Warning: Violence, blood

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"I'm going to kill you."

The video turned off after Cameron made me listen to Mr Diggory scream for his son. I had no idea what I just witnessed — what to think.

"He was always too annoying anyway." Cameron shrugged, looking down at me. "Though I so wish it could've been your friend Partridge."

I looked up at him, my teeth gritted and my jaw tense.

"Let. Me. Go."

"You think I'm stupid?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"Not doing what I say would be stupid." I answered. "Let me the fuck go, Cameron."

My thoughts were everywhere. My heart was beating fast and I was desperate to get out of whatever this room was so I could prove to myself that the video was fake — that Cedric was waiting for the task to begin down at the quidditch pitch.

"Look at me, Allie." Cameron said, placed his wand at the side of my jaw, running it all the way to under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. "You don't need to feel sad about Diggory. Friends are overrated anyway."

"You only say that because you have none!" I spat. "The ones you have are all a bunch of fucking—"

I didn't get to finish my sentence before he slapped me across the face, though it didn't faze me.

"Why can't women ever be fucking quiet?!" He spat. "You need to learn your place. This has always been your problem, hasn't it? You just speak."

I gulped and looked up at him.

"Women need to only speak when they're spoken to."

"Good thing I'm not a fucking woman then." I told him. He didn't say anything. He grabbed the knife — my knife and crouched down in front of me with a pout.

He slid the blade underneath the material of my shirt, and rested it on the side of my body.

"You're gonna cut me?" I asked. "Good. It turns me on. Something called a knife—"

My sentence was cut short by a painful scream as he cut into my flesh, making sure to go deep and slow.

"Fuck!" I cried out when the blade left my skin. I looked down at myself, only to see blood slowly run down and under my shirt, moving onto the material of my trousers before dropping onto the floor.

The stinging and painful sensation was still there. It was so painful that my stomach almost felt numb from it.

"Why did you— fuck!" I thrashed against the chair, trying to get out of it. "Untie me, Cameron! I swear to god... fucking untie me already you fucking sociopath. You're a fucking joke you fucking—"

Again I didn't get to finish my sentence. This time he didn't cut me. He pushed the blade of the knife into my side, having me scream and cry in pain.

He didn't take it out again. He left my own pocketknife sitting in the side of my body. I knew it wasn't long enough to be able to do some damage but it hurt like hell.

"You're a coward!" I yelled. "You've always been a fucking coward! Why don't you just kill me, huh?!"

"When do you learn to keep your mouth quiet?" He asked me. "You're only making it worse for yourself."

"Fuck you!" I spat. "You fucking stabbed me and you say that you love me? You better hope I can't get out of these robes because when I do, you're a dead guy."