Behind the mask

Introduction

6 Years ago... 3:43am... Novell Family Home, Wizarding World...

Trauma often starts at an early age, normally by some sort of child abuse or always watching others argue around you, making you believe that love or relationships should be toxic when in reality, they shouldn't be. You're probably wondering why I'm discussing this, but it all becomes clear very soon. I never for a second thought I would receive some trauma. I come from a very loving family, full of laughter and nothing but trust and loyalty. I may have never met my mother, but my father brought me up with his new wife, my new mum, and my stepbrother, but in this moment, I can feel our bonds breaking, shattering, and destroying my insides as I watch them fall lifeless in front of me. My screams and tears are silent compared to the commotion in our home. My brother is pulling me away as wizards and witches come rushing in, fighting people in masks who are dressed fully in black, to hide themselves I realise.

"Hope, we need to go." I battle against my brother's grip, kicking and lashing, not wanting to leave our parents in our cosy living room, unmoving and unalive. "We can help them!" "No, no we can't... we... we just need to get somewhere safe now." I sob, falling to the ground as he holds me tight, shushing me and rubbing my hair, trying to comfort me when all I want to do is scream. Scream from the pain and frustration for allowing this to happen. I know deep down this isn't my fault, not really, but I can't help but blame myself. "Apparate." My brother whispers, taking us to our family safe home in the muggle world where everything feels eerily silent apart from our breaths and tears. Breaths we can see.

"Jesus it's cold." I half chuckle as he pulls me up, slowly taking me to the living room where he lights the fire with a flick of his wand as I settle into the sofa opposite it, placing my wand on the coffee table in front of me. I wipe away my tears as he sits down next to me with a thump, placing his wand next to mine and releasing a breath he must have been holding in all night. "We'll get through this." I slowly nod, knowing he's right yet feeling lost. "We should get some sleep. Unless you want to eat something?" I shake my head, soon leaning it on his shoulder as he wraps an arm around me, rubbing my arm. "We have each other, always. We always have and always will but promise that you'll always talk to me about anything." I put out my pinkie as he smiles. "Promise me too?" He nods, taking my pinkie in his as we sit with our pinkies locked for a while. "Where do you think they'll take them?" He sighs, rubbing my pinkie with his thumb. "I assume the funeral pallor. I'm not sure... but I know we'll get the funeral arrangements sent to us here." I nod, thinking about all the memories I have with them. My first spells to my first broom ride, everything has been with them and now we no longer have them in our lives.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." I nod, getting up as he follows after me, making sure to tuck me into bed like we used to do as kids. Something he still does when I need comforted. "Jake," He hums, kneeling down at the side of my bed. "Thank you." He nods slowly, knowing what I mean without having to go into detail. He accepted me as his sister, not a stepsister, a sister and that's something I will always be grateful for even though he knows his mother biologically isn't mine. Yet she was like mine, maybe that's why this whole situation is confusing to others but tonight we are both grieving in different ways. His way is to act normal, as if nothing has happened and grieve behind closed doors while mine is to hold onto people, hug and cry when needed but also be silent majority of the time. I smile as he kisses my forehead, pushing my hair back. "Thank you also." I nod, watching him leave quietly, even though my bedroom door creeks, before making his way back downstairs. I've always felt safe in this family, even in this house yet tonight, I feel on edge, even if the person I trust most is downstairs.

'Everybody needs a safe place, and that should be their home' – Debbie Rowe