Defining Secrets // Ron Weasley

Chapter One: Right, Those Nightmares and A Beginning

Elise's POV:

The first time I knew something was wrong, I was five.

My Mum had just finished a stressful day at work, and wanted to do nothing more than to kick back and relax. So when she'd finally finished making dinner and put me to bed, and my Dad came home, she was excited. She saw his arms empty, and asked him about the dry cleaning she'd asked him to pick up on his way back. He'd forgotten.

The rest of the night I heard nothing but complaints.

The second time, I was seven.

My Mum woke me up in a craze. She pulled me up out of bed and threw everything I would need into my backpack. She didn't even have time to realise she forgot my coat until we got to the school.

Luckily, my teacher was skilled enough to flick her wand and make me a new one.

The last time I knew something was wrong, I was ten. I heard an interrupted panic. And everything erupted with it.

My stomach churned just as we did, flipped over to the side. Something broke through the car's front window - something big and heavy. The glass fell like snow, scathing as it went, unyielding in its fall. The impact brought my vision to a blur, screams erupting, ears ringing, pain seething.

I was trapped. My foot was caught under the back of the front seat, which had been forced back by the impact. The bones in my ankle shrieked horribly as I twisted it out. They bent and broke. I bit my lip so hard it bled.

Adrenaline coursed through me like air. It swam into my system, rushed to my ears, ran with the blood in my veins, seeped from the cut on my arm.

By then, I'd managed to pull out most of my leg, enough to wiggle my knee free and sigh at its escape. Muscles cramped as I gripped onto the edges of the open window, gritted my teeth, and pushed myself out.

My legs failed. My body fell. I groaned at the impact from my head against the concrete. My brain spun in my skull. It twisted and turned so violently I felt sick. The bile rose to my throat, but was fought back at a realisation.

Next came a horrified scream.

It took me a year to realise the scream was my own. Only it had never sounded hoarse, so thick, so blood-curdling - so completely horrifying.

He laid on his side, slumped over. Beautiful black hair was the first part of him I recognised, fallen over his face, a noticeable head injury... blood dripping.

My body froze. I knew even then, I shouldn't have frozen. I needed to get over there - I needed to make sure he was okay. Needed to make sure he was ali- no!

My heart yelled at my brain to stop.

Not yet.

Not yet.

My breath never caught. The muscles in my arms screamed just as loud, but I ignored them. Painfully, I dragged my limp legs behind me. I forced all my thoughts, pushed all of my body, towards reaching him.

But as I brushed the hair out from his face, laid him on his back and removed the hand that'd clutched his dripping stomach...