"Why don't you just leave me alone?" I spit at him, the anger laced in my voice angered him and I loved it. I watched as he clenched his jaw, staring at me as his eyes darkened; walking up to me, soon towering over me making me realize how small I w...
MATTHEO RIDDLE IS YASMINE AMAROS. CALANTHA, NICCOLÒ, ERISED, EPIPHANY, DAÌNN, AND KASSANDRA ARE MINE. ALL OTHERS UNLESS MENTIONED ARE JK R*WLINGS.
TW: SWEARING
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My room was cold when I woke up. Colder than usual. It was the Earth's way of letting me know that Winter was finally here. When I was younger, during my first years at Hogwarts, I'd always looked forward to the Christmas season. I would get to go home and see my Mother, visit Hogsmeade, and the decorations all around the castle were beautiful.
But, that was before, and this is now.
I thought a lot about the befores, maybe more than I thought about the possible afters, and still, I let everything that I couldn't change bother me.
I sat at the end of my bed with Mattheo snoring into the pillow behind me, and I stared straight ahead at myself in my mirror. It was the first time I'd looked at myself since I'd woken up, and I couldn't seem to look away once my eyes landed on my reflection.
The skin surrounding my eyes, the areas of my face that hurt so badly yesterday when I was in the corridor with Mattheo, were a bluish color, with tiny purple specks.
There were little red and pink freckles all over my nose and cheekbones, which I recognized to be broken blood vessels. My lips were swollen, as were my eyelids, and the area nearing my hairline was bruised faintly.
But the fall didn't even hurt from what I could remember.
I felt sick to my stomach all over again. It was like I was falling from a high cliff, only the fall never ended.
I moved my hair behind my shoulders and brought my hands, which I only now noticed were uncontrollably shaking, up to my face, and slowly, I caressed the discolored areas under my eyes with the tips of my calloused fingers.
"You look very pretty,"
I didn't look away from the mirror at the sound of her voice. I didn't need to. I knew who she was now, and I was starting to think I could tell when she was about to appear before she even did.
I paid her no attention, and continued to stare into the glass, my fingers still tracing specific areas of my face.
"It's going to go away," she said, then, trying to comfort me. But it didn't work, because I didn't want to listen to her right now, I didn't want her to be here. I wanted to sit in the silence, the only sounds being Mattheo's quiet murmurs in his sleep, and try and figure out a way to understand everything that was going on.
