it's august 26th. aka my birthday. i turn sixteen today and normally many girls would be thrilled. unfortunately i am not one of them.
you see, i am from america where i went to an american school of magic.
"why don't you stay there?" you might ask. the answer is simple: mental health. i have struggled with every mental illness in the book which led to me being a skinny drug addict with scars all over her body from mutilating herself to feel better. i got caught selling drugs at my school to help support my family who despite working in the american ministry of magic, were struggling with money. this led to an immediate expulsion from all wizarding schools in america.
now im stuck confused and lost in the middle of a train station in London. as if i wasnt confused enough, im supposed to go to some platform 9 3/4 which i couldn't find anywhere. i've asked three workers where it might be and they all laughed in my face and said it doesn't exist.
i let out a sigh of frustration when i spot a red headed boy running through a brick wall. i guess i have to give it a shot. as i run towards the wall, i scrunch up my face, bracing for the impact of my face slamming into the brick wall. lucky enough, i didn't smash my face in and i ended up right where i was supposed to be.
i gather my things and enter the train. one of the worst things about transferring to a school when you're sixteen is seeing everyone joyously greeting one another after being reunited from months of separation. i had no one to hug or laugh with.
fuck, i could use a perc right now. but no, i can't fall back into the habit.
as i walk towards the back of the train, i find an empty compartment and settle down, hoping no one would sit with me. sometimes it's easier to be alone.
i open my copy of girl interrupted and begin scanning the pages when i hear someone clearing their throat, attempting to gain my attention. as i look up, i see a tall brunette boy with piercing blue eyes that held absolutely no emotion. he was gorgeous but something told me to stay away from him. then again, when have i ever listened to my gut?
"can i help you?" i asked, genuinely curious as to why he stood before me
"yeah, you're in my seat," he snapped
"im sorry, i didn't realize there were specific seats," i apologized, my cheeks turning red in embarrassment
"best you find another place to sit, american,"
he spat out american like it was some filthy slur.
i glared at him, debating on whether or not i should tell him off but ultimately decided to hold my tongue... for now.
