༺𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝༻

Chapter 9: Journey to Platform 9¾

My last month with Felix and Grandma had been nothing short of dreadful. Grandma seemed to have made it her personal mission to completely ignore my existence. Every time I walked into the room, it was as though I were invisible. She never acknowledged me, not even when I wandered into the kitchen for breakfast.

"Here, Felix. I made breakfast for both of us," she said one morning, her voice as cold and impersonal as ever. I could practically hear the unspoken words: I didn't bother making anything for you.

I sighed inwardly and glanced around. There wasn't a scrap of food left for me, of course. So, I turned to the shelf where a basket of apples sat just out of reach. They were the only thing I could grab without needing her help. I stretched up, my fingers brushing the edge of the basket, and then—crash. The entire thing tipped over, apples tumbling in every direction, one of them smacking me squarely on the head.

I winced, the sting of embarrassment sharper than the apple. I bent down, scooping the apples back into the basket with hurried hands, not wanting to face Grandma or Felix. But of course, they didn't help; they barely even noticed me. I didn't dare stay any longer, so I gathered the basket and slipped out of the kitchen, retreating upstairs.

There, I collapsed onto my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. My stomach grumbled in protest, but I didn't move. I couldn't bring myself to go back down, not with them downstairs, with their casual laughter and food. I tried to ignore the gnawing feeling of hunger, the empty ache in my chest that had nothing to do with food.

Tomorrow, I'd have to tell Grandma I needed her to drop me off at King's Cross Station. I'd have to make her understand. She couldn't just pretend I wasn't going.

I spent the rest of the day lost in my thoughts, the afternoon slipping by as I stared at the ceiling, trying to plan out what I would say. There was no way I'd be able to leave the house without her. No matter how much I dreaded it, she would have to help me.

Eventually, the scent of dinner drifted upstairs, but I didn't feel like going down. My stomach protested, but my pride kept me rooted to the bed. When I finally forced myself to face the inevitable and went downstairs, Grandma and Felix were already seated at the table, eating their meal without so much as a glance in my direction.

My stomach growled loudly, reminding me just how much I'd been ignoring the hunger gnawing at me. I stood awkwardly by the table, unsure how to approach her, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them.

"Grandma... I—I need you to drop me off at King's Cross Station tomorrow."

She didn't even look up at first, chewing slowly, like I hadn't spoken. Then, without warning, she stood up abruptly, her hand darting out and gripping my hair tightly, yanking me towards her. I winced at the sharpness of her grip, my eyes stinging with the sudden pain.

"First, you disgrace this family by mixing with that... freak lot," she hissed, her voice like ice. "And now, you have the nerve to ask me to drop you off?"

The words stung more than the pain in my scalp. I could feel my pulse racing, a rush of frustration rising in my chest, but I fought the urge to shout.

"Ow! Let me go!" I cried, my voice cracking with a mixture of hurt and anger, my eyes watering. "It's just a train station, Grandma! Please!"

She didn't let go. "You think you can just run off to that school and ruin your life?" Her grip tightened, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. "Just like your father. Throwing away everything for that nonsense."

I gritted my teeth, trying to stay composed. I was so tired of this. Tired of feeling like I didn't belong in my own family.

"Please," I whispered, but my voice was almost lost in the tightness of my throat.