Birds of a Feather

Chapter 8: Bloodied Clothes, Bloody Pictures, and Bloodied Money

Trigger warning: this chapter will contain depictions of physical and sexual abuse. If these things may trigger you, I would advise you to skip this chapter (or maybe consider a different book, as abuse is going to be a recurring theme here)

          Someone was trying to get me out of bed. A part of me wanted to get out, but the other part was burrowing further into the warm blankets, begging whoever it was to not take this shred of comfort from me. All I wanted was to stay in the warmth and safety of my bed for a few minutes longer. All they wanted was for me to get the fuck up. I rolled over, brushing against someone and flinching aggressively. So aggressively, in fact, that me and the blanket I'd wrapped myself around tumbled to the ground with a crash. Well, there goes the comfort of the bed.

I was not comfortable on the floor. One of my arms was folded under me and starting to cramp, and the other was pressed against the nightstand. My face was shoved against the nightstand and a foot was stinging from the effect of the crash. However, I still couldn't find the energy to get up. I just wanted to wallow here, drowning in blankets and in pain everywhere. God why did we have to move one bed to the other instead of pushing them both into the center of the room? If we'd done that, I could've been comfortably laying on the floor. But instead my face ached as the pain in my foot grew.

"Who fell off the bed?" Tracy asked groggily. She sounded like she was minutes away from falling right back asleep. She hated mornings, this was a known fact.

"Theo," Astoria grumbled. She too, hated mornings. I didn't hate mornings, per se, I just always struggled to get up. "Are you alright?" She muttered and I could practically hear her attempting to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

I wanted to tell her that I was, but my voice caught in my throat like always and no sound came out. So instead, I raised my arm (the one that wasn't currently being crushed by me) and did a thumbs-up. I hoped she saw, which she must've, because she didn't ask anything more.

"God, Blaise, why're you doing this?" Tracy grumbled and I could hear a fight for the comforter ensue. Blaise was the one trying to get me up? I wanted to get up then, and look at least remotely presentable, but I was just too tired. I was always too tired. Too tired for all the people I loved. Too tired to do the things I loved. Too tired to eat, sleep, drink, or brush my teeth. I think I was just born too tired. Once in my life, I remember a vague point before I became too tired. Before my mom died. Ever since then, I've been too exhausted to have a normal life.

"C'mon, all the adults are meeting up to discuss what's gonna happen. You guys gotta get up." Sometimes the way Blaise could move from completely formal to utterly informal was endearing. Now was not one of those times, because he was reaching for my blanket and attempting to untangle it from me, which proved impossible since this blanket and I were officially one. I seriously couldn't have gotten out of it if I tried, which I didn't, because I was too tired.

I felt a sharp pain in my side. I wanted to ask who the fuck did that, but I stayed as silent as I always was. "Get up!" This voice was different, distinctively not Blaise. Based on the tone, I could guess that it was Idona. She was much less patient than Blaise. She waited approximately .03 seconds before she reached down, grabbed my arm, and dragged me out of the crack between the bed and the wall. I wanted to protest, but no sound came out of my mouth. It was almost like my brain was attempting to save me from the embarrassment of my words. Often when I tried to speak, I simply couldn't. I often wanted to. I didn't.

She dragged me up, holding my body against her and starting to walk forward. "I will drag you the whole way down the stairs," she seethed. I wanted to ask "is that a threat?" But I stayed silent. I stayed silent the whole time she angrily brought me down the stairs and threw me into a chair next to Malfoy. I made sure to glare at him before turning to Pansy, who was sitting on the counter across from me.