Untreated Wounds | Sirius Black

Chapter 6

Why the fuck was I making such a big deal out of it?

God, I was pathetic.

Well, that was what I was convincing myself. I was just a pathetic crybaby -- it was just a kiss, after all. 

Just a stupid kiss -- Just a stupid kiss that had ruined me. 

"Lillian, you coming along?" Narcissa asked me as I left the change room.

"Haven't they left already?"

"We can be a bit late," She gave me a sly grin,

"I'm not feeling too well, I'm going to lie down,"

"We haven't done anything in weeks, Lil," Narcissa whispered, "Don't tell me you actually took Sirius's word seriously,"

"I'm not feeling well, Narcissa," I countered, folding my arms over my chest, "Just go find Lucius, he'll fuck you,"

"I don't want Lucius," She reached for my hand but I shifted it away, "I want you,"

"He can do exactly what I do,"

Narcissa frowned, "Why have you been resenting me? I thought you loved me. Lil, come on,"

"I said I'm not feeling well," I repeated myself -- Why couldn't they just listen to me? Was my voice that weak?

"You're just making excuses," She reached for me but I stepped back,

"Yeah, I'm making fucking excuses!" I raised my voice suddenly, "I don't fucking like being around you!"

I was getting mean.

I did that when I was bleeding.

Narcissa's face dropped, her granite-like eyes searching my face as if I'd betrayed her, "What are you on about?"

I seethed, "I hate you! You are so consumed with yourself and your fucking boyfriend! That by the way, he isn't down at Three Broomsticks – He's in Knockturn Alley at the whore house."

"Don't be like this," Narcissa sniffled like a pathetic child.

Without another word I walked away, still smoking my cigarette.

I went to the Astronomy tower and flew up to the roof as the sun set and clouds begin to draw closer to the castle. I was sharpening my uncle's dagger against the whetstone in my palm, feeling the rain begin to sprinkle down my skin.

Everyone knew me as mean. They knew me as a heartless snake that always went for the neck. I never used to be mean. I wasn't a heartless snake. I knew I got vicious when I was angry or scared – But I always regretted it afterwards. I never meant to go for the neck – to bite them so hard that they bled – But how else was I supposed to protect myself?

I'd already been left so bloody – I didn't want to bleed anymore – I wouldn't survive losing anymore blood. I didn't know how to treat my wounds – I didn't know how to stop the blood gushing out of me – I had been bleeding my whole life. 

I picked at the wounds on my flesh. I dug my nails into them and ripped away the healing scab in search for a reason. I'd never find an answer in a wound. It was a raw and bloody mess, I was only deepening the wound in my search.  I was digging my fingers in deeper, spreading open the wound in the hunt for a reason. 

I'd never find my answer. Not in my own wounds. I could pick it apart and deepen the cut as much as I pleased, but I'd never find my answer. I'd only infect the wound, I'd cause it to rot and decay and it would never heal if I continued to pick it apart, but I couldn't help myself -- I had to know why.