All the lies // D.M.

16 - Fragile distance

Cathleen Avery

Two weeks had passed since I'd almost relapsed, teetering too close to that edge I knew I had to stay away from. It was ironic, really—of all the things to save me from spiralling, it had been Draco Malfoy. In that moment, giving in to him had seemed like the safer choice, the more "healthy" drug but the way he made me feel was its own kind of addiction—familiar, comforting, and far too easy to lose myself in.

This addiction didn't come with the gut-wrenching withdrawal, the fevered ache and yet, I felt somehow worse after he walked out of my room because I gave him more of me than I ever should have, chasing a high that wasn't chemical but felt just as dangerous.

Funny, isn't it? That after what Holden did, after the threats and the apologies, I thought I couldn't sink any lower. But it wasn't his manipulation that pushed me back to the edge—it was the grief. That gaping hole my father's death had left behind, one that nothing could fill. What I did wasn't logical... and a part of me knew that, but my brain's prone side didn't care. The half-finished encounter had only left my mind buzzing, the tension inside me building with nowhere to go but Theo's appearance had to be a sign. The universe was trying to tell me that what we were doing was wrong, that we'd gone too far.

Now, I was left alone again with my thoughts and that ring—his last gift to me. I pulled it off my finger and placed it on the bathroom counter, staring at it as though it held all the answers I'd never get and I could almost hear his voice every time I remembered his last words. "Have fun, but be diligent. I love you." They played on a loop in my head, breaking me all over again.

The loss felt as raw as ever, a pain that only deepened as the days passed and I missed him with every fibre of my being. He would've known what to say, what to do. I needed him so much, and he was gone. I'd never hear his awful jokes again, never sip hot chocolate together by the fireplace during winter.

I sighed stepping into the shower, letting the hot water stream over me as I let the tears come, sobs wracking my body in the secrecy of the bathroom. I pressed my hand to my mouth so Valerie wouldn't hear me, trying to muffle the sounds, trying to keep my grief contained. I'd never admit how often I broke like this—silent, hidden, under the cover of steam and running water. No one could know. My friends couldn't see me like this. They needed me to be the happy girl, the one who always smiled, who pretended she was okay.

But pretending was exhausting. And two weeks ago, that exhaustion had almost swallowed me whole.

The water rushed over me as if it could wash away the heaviness lodged inside me. Another memory flooded my brain.

On the outside, things looked fine. I was back to excelling in classes, talking and smiling enough to keep people from worrying. But deep down, I hadn't stopped breaking. No one knew I still cried every night, or how I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of it all.

I still cry every day. TIt was why I'd woken up screaming, Valerie rushing to my side, comforting me again. I needed to stop putting her through this. The nightmares, the constant feeling of emptiness—I couldn't make it stop on my own. And if my friends saw any more of my grief, I was afraid I'd lose them too.

Later, I slipped out to the far corner of the library, seeking solitude. The corner I'd carved a small C into, the spot no one else ventured to. I needed peace, but as I sat down, a Ravenclaw boy, Anderson, approached. He looked at me with a slight nod, eyebrows raised as he assessed me.

"Avery," he said in greeting.

"Anderson," I replied.

"I didn't expect you'd need help... relaxing," he said, cocking an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth.