Hidden Slytherin

Chapter 1 Anything You Can Do I Can Do Bleeding

Jane Bane Blackwell had woken up hours ago, in fact it was debatable whether she was ever actually asleep. Her side still burned where they hit her yesterday. Clay, her step father had been angry about fuck only knows and had decided it was her fault. Everything in the universe was her fault according to that drunk. When he wasn't pissed as a newt he was passed out or at work, whatever the fuck that was. She had asked once, before she knew better and had needed twenty six stitches for her trouble. She would know she did them herself.

Part of her was curious. She wanted to know, if only so she could prepare. Knowledge was power and she would take all she could get. Sometimes she felt almost predatory about it, but she hid it well. She didn't want anyone to see her like that. Greedy, desperate. They wouldn't get that power over her, that knowledge.

Jane checked her alarm clock. 4:40 glowed red in the dim light. It was broken and didn't actually work as an alarm but the numbers still worked, so that was enough. It was one of the few things she had in her room. A mattress on the ground, an old blanket, her clock, her backpack, and some clothes in a closet that had had the doors removed. No place to hide. Her room was on the second floor. Apparently they thought it would be harder for her to escape. They didn't seem to understand how much motivation they provided.

It had been silent for a while now. Her lovely guardians were still out and she was debating whether she would be free for the night and to go back to sleep or to escape out the window before their return. She knew it might be stupid but even when she knew, sheknew the house was empty she couldn't bring herself to make noise. As if they would pop out of nowhere at the slightest peep. Jane decided that sleep was out of the question and roled silently to her feet before pulling on a pair of old combat boot she had found second hand and pulling on an oversized black hoody, and grabbing her backpack, also second hand. She had taken to sleeping fully dressed years ago, unable to tolerate being that exposed with the birth giver and step failure around.

She glided over to the window that overlooked the back of the house and slide it open. No matter how many times Theynailed it shut or locked it, it always slide open when she needed to escape, and sometimes became immovable when they tried to follow. They said it was her fault. Personally she didn't care if it was her or Satan himself. Sometimes it felt like magic, those little things that happened when she really needed them. That or she was crazy. Certifiable really. A breeze blew in, sweeping against her cheeks as her eyes fluttered closed. Her body lurched as she heard a car door slam. Close, too close. Shit her time was up and she was wasting precious seconds. She swung her leg out the window as she heard keys in the lock, pulled the rest of herself out as Jane heard the door ricochet off the wall.

"Where the fuck are you bitch!" Jane tried to ignore the bile rising in her throat at the drunken slurring. "Get the fuck out here!"

Standing on the back porch roof, Jane watched as the window slide silently closed on its own, before latching from the inside. Without a backwards glance Jane ran along the roof line to the edge before silently slipping down the side. She crouched, eyes dilated as she strained to hear. As soon as she heard the banging on what could only be her bedroom door she dashed across the yard and vaulted the fence into the neighbor's yard dropping down behind the fence. Jane clutched her side, trying not to gasp for air even as the pain pulsated. She pushed back tears as she waited for the sounds of pursuit. Her Step Failure may have been upstairs but she had no idea if the Birth Giver had been, if she had returned at all. If she had been standing on the porch or by the kitchen window, Jane would have been spotted immediately.

Jane had long given up on the idea that that women would ever try to protect her, let alone act as some kind of actual mother. If anything the Birth Giver, more formally known as (I-Shit-You-Not) Karen, was so much worse then her Step Failure could ever manage. He acted out of rage, yelled abuse, sometimes hit, kicked or threw things in a drunken rage but that women, her mother, would smile, voice as sweet as cyanide and cut into you verbally, physically, it didn't matter and she did it all stone cold sober. That women was the sweetest when she wanted something from you. Just the thought of that women's eyes on her made Jane's skin crawl.