Purée

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### Chapter: The Edge of Control

The Slytherin common room was a place of dark elegance—green and silver tapestries hung from the walls, casting long shadows in the dim lighting. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, adding to the room's atmosphere of quiet intensity. I sat curled up in one of the deep leather armchairs, pretending to be absorbed in my book. My mind, however, was far from the pages in front of me.

The past few days had been a blur of anger and confusion, each moment bleeding into the next. I could feel a storm brewing inside me, one that I was barely keeping in check.

"Have you calmed down?" Mattheo's voice broke through the silence. He had an infuriating way of asking questions as if he already knew the answers. I glanced up just in time to see him casually slipping one of my daggers from his back pocket.

I ignored his question, my eyes narrowing at the sight of my dagger in his hand. My fingers itched with the desire to snatch it back, but I forced myself to look down at my book, pretending to read.

Mattheo, however, wasn't one to be easily ignored. With a smirk, he reached over and plucked the book out of my hands. That was the final straw.

I grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him down onto the couch with a force that surprised even me. In a swift motion, I snatched the dagger from his grasp and pressed it against his throat. My hand was steady, the blade cold against his skin.

"Fucking hell, Venessa!" Joshua's voice rang out, filled with alarm as he rushed over. He grabbed me by the shoulders, pulling me away from Mattheo. The dagger slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor as Joshua dragged me back.

"The fuck is going on?" Joshua demanded, his eyes darting between Mattheo and me. "If you're still pissed off, then set your anger on Mattheo. That's the whole reason he's doing this."

I glared at Mattheo, who merely shrugged, a nonchalant grin on his face. Joshua bent down, picked up the dagger, and handed it back to Mattheo. I could feel my pulse racing, my thoughts swirling with a chaotic mix of rage and confusion.

Without another word, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the common room, my footsteps echoing in the empty corridors as I made my way to my dormitory. The moment I was alone, I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow. What was wrong with me? The random outbursts, the quick, violent responses—I felt like I was losing control.

There was a soft knock at the door, and I sat up, wiping my eyes. "Come in," I called, my voice barely above a whisper. The door creaked open, and Mattheo stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him.

"You want me to act out," I said, not bothering to hide the exhaustion in my voice. "But I can't even scream, so whatever you're thinking, just quit it."

Mattheo leaned against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. "But you have a pit feeling, don't you?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost concerned.

I sighed, lying back on the bed. "Yes," I admitted, staring up at the ceiling.

He walked over to the edge of the bed, his expression unreadable. "Back then, you were going to hurt me, but you stopped. Try again," he said, his tone almost a challenge.

I looked at him, confused, as he handed me the dagger he had taken from me earlier. I sat up slowly, taking the blade from him. "Take a deep breath in," he guided me.

I shook my head, but I obeyed, inhaling deeply. The air filled my lungs, sharp and cold. Mattheo moved his arm closer to me, and my gaze fell on the Dark Mark etched into his skin. My breath caught in my throat, and I quickly turned away, throwing the dagger across the room where it embedded itself in the wall with a solid thud.