Taken (editing)

Chapter 45

 

* Two weeks later*

She slowly padded her feet towards the mirror in her room. She looked weak and almost fragile. There were dark circles under her eyes, her face looked pale, her eyes were red and puffy, her hair was a mess. Infact, her whole life was a mess.

She wanted to laugh at the red marks that adorned her skin. The marks and lines she kept drawing every day, on her legs and on her arms. She felt lonely, she felt friendless, she felt scared. Every day, she went on becoming weaker, the blade, being the only thing keeping her going.

She wanted to laugh at herself, laugh at the state she currently was. But she couldn't, hell, she couldn't even force a smile. For all that she experienced was sadness, fear. She had become so weak, so vulnerable to their words, their taunts. There had never been a day when she would stop crying, stop feeling sad.

Sometimes, she wouldnt even realize she was crying until those throbbing headaches would return, or until she felt so weak and exhausted, as if she could take no more. The situation was at its worst, and even though she didn't want to admit it, the thought of suicide had crossed her mind.

Why do you even try? Why do you even care? They hate you, anyway, They always have and they always will. Probably, they won't even realize you're gone. She told herself.

She wanted to commit suicide, she wanted to go away, forever, in a world where she wouldn't be taunted every second, or abused or called names. She wanted to run off to a place where she would be accepted, not as a freak, not as a slut, but for who she was. She wanted to run away from the realities of the day, off to a happy peaceful place.

However, there was one thing stopping her.

Him.

She lived, just for Harry. She hoped, every single day that he would come back, for when he was around her, the taunts, the names, the bullying didnt matter. She desperately wanted him to come back, wanted to talk to him again, wanted to be in his company again. She wished he would come back and take her away from these horrible sick people who she had to deal with everyday, the very same people who call her a freak, the very same people who had made her so weak, that-

"Hun, come downstairs, breakfast is ready" Her mum stated.

With one last look at the almost unrecognizable person in the mirror, she started off downstairs, grabbing her bag with her. She felt exhausted, heck, she didnt even know whether she slept last night or not.

"Did you sleep well last night?" her mother asked, her gaze still on the newspaper as she takes a seat in front of her.

"Yeah" she mumbled, taking a bite of her toast. But the dark circles under her eyes begged to differ.

"Hmm" her mother said, sipping her tea before raising her head to look at her daughter sitting across from her.

"You're wearing a sweater?"

"Problem?" She spat, grabbing her bag, ready to leave. And as always, her mother had that confused expression. She shrugged it off as her daughter made her way towards the door, not even stopping for a goodbye.