𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒, diego hargreeves

THE WHITE VIOLIN EMERGES.

AMBER HARGREEVES. present day

"on the fourth of july, we're all gonna die."

I THINK I'M LOSING MY MIND.

Sometimes I want to scream. Not because of my power or for the sake of sonic screaming, I just want to scream.

Into a pillow, in the middle of an empty field, in a mirror, at a car park in the dark of the night. It doesn't really matter.

It isn't because I'm angry, I think. I'm not really sure why, so please don't ask me about it. But sometimes there are things I can't express and I don't want to talk about my feelings, and I'd rather just scream.

Maybe after that I'll just listen to music, or scream some more until everything is drowned out. It's like taking a weight off of my shoulders. I guess that means this thing with Diego is affecting me more than I thought it was. It's fine, it's not a big deal.

If it was a big deal, I'd be thinking about him all the time. I'd be thinking about how is hair is just short enough to show off the scar that winds down the side of his head, and how his eyes never glisten unless he's upset, even when he's really happy. I'd be thinking about the eyebrow scrunch his face forms when he's confused.

But I'm not.

I hope not, at least. If I'm going to avoid thinking about him, I'll be needing a drink, two or three, maybe. I'll drink until I forget who he is and I'll stumble on the streets until I pass out in a bush or on my doorstep.

Is it too self-destructive for me to refuse to reject those thoughts when I know how wrong they are? There's nobody to stop me from getting in my own head anymore, nobody to stop me from crawling from bar to bar.

I was done with that life, and I tried to move on from it. The thing is with addiction, you're never really done. You can be clean or sober for months, weeks, days, years. However long, but it always creeps back up on you like a gradual illness. A common cold during a busy holiday period, a sneeze from pollen in the warmer months, you don't realize it's there until it's too late. I think it might be too late.

Now that I know it's too late, I should be able to get help. Rehab, burn my bottles, save the money before I spend it. I just can't, I need to get through this in order to get over it. I need to go through it again and again until I learn my lesson. Pump after pump, trip after trip, I don't care. I won't stop until I can't keep going.

Crashing. The feeling that everything around me is exploding.

When I focus my hearing and the buzz dulls, I realize that it's not just a feeling, but that I can hear crashing and booming sounds ringing through the academy, as though the whole building is being destroyed.

I push myself off of the kitchen counter, placing my noodle bowl down on the side and hesitantly making my way into the hallway, where I notice Klaus, Pogo and Diego stood together.

"Did anybody hear that?" I question as I walk in, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

The three of them gaze over at me with furrowed brows, presumably in confusion. Diego sort of glances at me and then averts his gaze to the floor, as if looking at me is the most difficult thing he can think of doing.

Klaus clears his throat. "Hear wha-"

A loud crashing sound rings out across the hallway, and I wince at the volume the boom was at with my focused hearing. The boys must've heard that sound because they're all looking around now, wide-eyed expressions, as dust collects and falls in unnatural piles from the force upon the academy.