This chapter contains mature themes: abuse and assault. readers discretion is advised.
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Bored - billie eilish
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IT WAS DARK.
Oh so dark.
I couldn't see anything, I couldn't hear anything, I was numb.
My body, My brain, My being... all numb.
And then, just when I thought that all the pain, suffering, and strenuous amount of mental exhaustion these past few years have brought me might finally come to an end...
My eyes shot open.
It wasn't over!
It wasn't over?
Gasping for air, I bring my mud covered hand to my mouth and cough up what seems to be even more dust and dirt that have somehow made its way into my lungs.
I couldn't see much, my vision was blurry (probably more grime I thought to myself), my ears were ringing, my body ached.
Straining my neck, and trying to sit upright, I squint my hazel eyes hoping to get a better read on my location. My contact lenses itch my corneas, and just as tears begins to pool I recognize the familiarity of my surroundings. From the dusty stone carved walls, to the glistening moon shining through the arched windows, and the empty bathroom where the faint sound of a leaky faucet can be detected, I am able to make it out to be an isolated dead end of one of Hogwarts' many corridors. Instantly allowing my anxiety to subside, although not diminish...
I notice the silence.
Dusting myself off, and wiping my face down with the bottom trim of my grey sweater vest, I try my hardest to pick myself off the floor. Before I am able fully stand, I stagger back down and suck in a breath of air through my clenched teeth. Noticing a sharp pain in my left leg, I look down and notice a large defined gash. Grazing my hand over the burning wound, as dried blood flakes off and fresh blood slowly seeps out, I notice how it runs from the back of my kneecap directly down to the edge of my frail ankle.
"Shit" I mutter to myself, barely having the ability to look at it without wincing. I go to reach for my wand hoping to fix the situation, but instead my bony hand makes contact with the cold, white porcelain floor.
I hurriedly check each deep pocket in my Slytherin dressing robes, and even scan my surroundings further in hopes it would be laying there ready for me to use. No such luck.
I shift myself backwards to lean against the wall directly behind me, I slowly curl my knees inwards cringing when the gash makes contact with the back of my thigh. Resting my elbows on my knees and holding my head in my hands I mentally loathe myself. How careless could I have been to lose my wand? I wonder where my friends think I am right now? What would my father have to say about this?...Why am I thinking about him again?....
I miss him, I barely associate myself with him I thought to myself, but I miss the old him, the way we once were.
He's my dad, yet to feel so far apart suddenly. Oh how my heart aches for his company even though it is something I cannot have, Oh how the old him would comfort me in times like this and tell me how much he cared, Oh how he would smile and pinky promise that everything would be okay, I thought as a single tear rolled down my blood stained cheek.

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FanfictionDISCLAIMER: MATURE CONTENT, 18+ ONLY. This story contains graphic sexual material, language, drug and alcohol use, and violence. Reader discretion advised. Samantha Rowle, daughter of the infamous death eater Thorfinn Rowle, has never believed in lo...