Blood Status

Chapter Eighteen:

Chapter eighteen:

 

She starred in the mirror, her nostrils flared as she narrowed her eyes. Tears made her eyes puffy and red, her nose was just as red and disgusting. How she hated what she looked like when she cried. It may enhance how her eyes look, but it only made her feel worse. The oncoming headache was not something she wanted, and she especially didn’t want the pain in her chest.

 

But she physically hurt. Everything hurt and she looked down to the scaring scratch marks on her skin as she caught the letter in her hand. The next of kin letter was there on the bathroom counter. The funeral was on saturday and she couldn’t stand to go. But Dumbledore insisted that she go, and Snape concurred. Elizabeth just wanted to sleep herself into a stupor. Classes were a blur. Despite how she was passing them in silence, how she made flying colors and was as icy if not worse than she was before.

 

Elizabeth didn’t eat with her friends. She didn’t want to see their faces. How they worried, how they tried to reach out and tell her things would be okay. Pity was something that dragged people down into the pits of despair. There was no use in saying things would be okay… because they wouldn’t! Elizabeth let out a cry of pain and anger as she slammed the mirror back from her. It fell from the wall and came crashing down as she backed away from it. The sound of the glass shattering deafened her, but what did it matter. Hands banged against the door, begged to come in, but she kept her charm up and shouted for them to go away.

 

Blood trickled down from her palm as Elizabeth curled up into a ball on the floor. No more tears, just dry heaving as she crinkled the paper up in her hand. There it was again… the darkness. It crawled up her skin like leeches and she let it. How her skin itched, how she could feel the pain take over all her senses as she lay there on the floor. Was this rock bottom? Was this what she did to herself? Depression ate away her need to move from the cool stone. Anxiety stabbed at her heart at the idea of having to face her brothers, explain that her and her world of wizards was the reason for their deaths. Regret for hurting her friends, not talking to them, seeing their faces, and for not saying goodbye to her parents, it ran it’s thick nails up her insides as she lay there.

 

Then the door opened. A far more skilled wizard opened the door as she lay there, just staring into her hand that dripped like a leaky faucet with her own blood.

 

“Are you just going to lie there?” He hissed. Elizabeth didn’t even pick up her head, she merely let her middle finger rise and point itself straight up. A monument for what she thought of him and his plans.

 

“That’s not very lady like.” He chuckled.

 

“It’s also not lady like to fuck the man you’re manipulating.” She stated point blank with a tone like dry toast. Her eyes flickered up to the long bearded wizard just before her. Of course she and Draco hadn’t actually slept together. She thought about it before, and she intended to do so one day, before all of this.  “But I did that too.”

 

Dumbledore shut the door and slid down onto the floor. Crouched near her, he slowly laid down and looked her in the eye. Every breath was level, every blink was slow but sharp and efficient. Elizabeth did not waste any effort, everything was for her own survive… right? So why was she still here? Wouldn’t the best bet to be to pack up her things and completely disappear.