Sabrina ; The next generation

7

Hi,

So... as the dumbass I am, I accidentally deleted the 7th chapter of Sabrina which I already had published so I had to rewrite the entire thing and I barely remember what happened, so things have most likely changed.

-

My dad was staring at me.

Mum was on the same sofa as I was, a comforting hand resting on my leg.

My legs were pulled up to my chest and my arms were wrapped around my knees.

Meanwhile, Naomi was still asleep in my room, and my brother had probably gone to sleep too.

After my parents heard me scream at Alec out in the garden, they ordered me into dads office where they had always had family talks if one of us did something.

"Are you high?" Dad asked. "Did you take something?"

I raised my eyes from the floor, staring at my dad without saying anything.

"Did you?" He asked, and I clenched my jaw, hating that he thought I had relapsed, while also knowing he had no reason to trust me.

I hadn't earned his trust yet.

"She's not high." Mum said as she looked at dad. "George, look at her eyes. She's not high."

"It was my cigarettes." I said, shutting my eyes. "I got frustrated and threw them and now I can't find them."

"So that's what you were looking for?" Dad asked. "Cigarette and not drugs?"

I shrugged.

"Some people would consider cigarettes a drug..."

Dad sighed. He obviously wasn't in the mood for any smart comments.

"What's going on?" He asked. "Are you upset about quidditch? It doesn't matter that you didn't make it on the team—"

"Make it?" I laughed. "I didn't stand a chance! I blew my only chance and now I have nothing to do with my life!"

"That's not true, my love." Mum said. "We'll find something."

I shook my head.

"Everyone are looking at me. People stare when I walk down Diagon Alley. I'm the drug addict they all love to talk about. No places will want to hire me, mum. They can't trust me."

"Sabrina, that isn't true." Mum sighed. "You had a shot at quidditch and you'll get a shot somewhere else."

"Your mother's right." Dad said, and I looked at him again. "And we'll both help you find something. It's okay—"

"It's not!" I raised my voice, startling my mum a little. "Stop saying that it's okay when it's not! It's not fucking okay! That was my dream and I blew it! I have no career path to take and I pulled our family's reputation through the mud! You act like it's fine, but don't you think I've noticed how you've both struggled with business? People don't want to be associated with the people who raised a drug addict!"

"Sabrina—"

"Why do you think the shop doesn't have that many busy days anymore?!" I asked, looking at my dad. "Because who's going to let their children run around a shop that is owned by the man who raised a drug addict!"

"Sabrina—"

"And you, mum..." I looked at my mum. "...less people are subscribing to The Silverberry Outlook. You're an activist, mum. You fight for change and meanwhile, your daughter ran around behind your back, doing drugs. As long as you keep supporting me—"

I looked at both mum and dad.

"—no one is going to want to be associated with you, and your businesses will go bankrupt. All of this, is affecting you both and it's affecting Fred as the co owner of the shop, and it's affecting his family. All of this, because I was too damn weak and had to seek to drugs."

"That's enough." Dad said and stood up instead of leaning against his desk.

I looked at him, a little taken back by the roughness of his voice.

"I am tired of hearing you degrade yourself, Sabrina. You are not weak. You're a teenage girl who struggled with her identity which is normal within adopted children. You were struggling and you didn't know how to reach out for help, but that doesn't make you weak." Dad said. "Use your brain for a moment, Bina. Do you seriously think your mum and I care more about our careers than we care about you? You are our daughter and we will do everything we can to help you, so for the sake of Godric, would you please stop hiding? Come to us when you struggle with something. We can help."

"I doubt that."

"Yeah?—"

"George." Mum spoke, sending him a certain look that shut him up.

Then she looked at me.

"I know how difficult it is for you." She said. "You went to rehab and you're clean but it's still as hard as ever. You still struggle to keep away from drugs, and I understand how hard that is. It was the same when I got out of rehab back when I misused alcohol."

I ran my hands into my hair, tugging on it out of frustration.

"How did you get through it? It's so fucking frustrating! Every time there's one little inconvenience, my fucking veins are on fire and I just want to do one line, but I don't and that's even more frustrating!"

"I know, baby." Mum rubbed my knee, trying to soothe me. "But with a lot of therapy and—"

"I'm not doing therapy." I said, shaking my head. "That's not something— that's not for me."

"Not for you?" Dad asked. "Stop being proud for one moment, Bina, and—"

"George!" Mum snapped. "Go do something else than yell at her!"

Mum pointed at the door and she didn't stop until dad had left the room. He didn't shut the door, so mum did, using her wand.

"Why don't you want to do therapy?" Mum asked. "We'll set you up with a good therapist. Someone who just wants to help you."

"No." I shook my head. "They're not interested in helping. They're there because they get paid."

"And because they want to help. Often, people go into that profession because they've gone through things too. They want to help and you need that help. Please take the help, Bree."

I shook my head and teared up, making a face as I tried to stop.

"I uh— I'm going to bed." I said, getting off the sofa. "Night."

"Sabrina—" mum sighed, but I walked out of the office and made my way upstairs.

I pushed the door to my room open, and the sound of it shutting again, startled Naomi awake.

She looked around, rubbing her eyes before they landed on me. When she saw me, she completely relaxed.

"Where'd you go?" She asked, relaxing against the bed.

"I— I needed some fresh air." I breathed. "Do you have a cigarette? I lost mine?"

"You lost yours?" She chuckled, sitting up. "While getting fresh air?"

I nodded, and Naomi didn't question it further before getting up to look for some cigarettes in her bag.

"Omi?" I asked, and she hummed in response. "Do you still want to find a flat with me?"