Bloom Again /James Potter/ ❁book 2❁

❁Chapter 32❁

Chapter 32

Bea was sure the school year was going in way too fast for her, it was now the end of February and she was sure that she was dreaming about how quickly the months were going. She was currently with Bertie lying in the grass near the black lake, her head was lying in his lap - eyes on the clouds rolling by in the sky above whilst he stroked her hair and she tried to convince him that the blob shaped clouds looked like their friends.

"That's Sirius," she giggled, pointing to a cloud rolling by that looked like a circle, "I think it's an exact replica."

"Oh yes, of course," Bertie snorted and soon shook his head at her antics. She was happier most days than not and he was sure as the days went on, she was getting better but there were still days when his heart broke because of her.

He knew, like his friends did, that whenever she had a bad day it was worse than it would have been last year. Because she was happier now, and last year she knew bad days were most common - and the fear and sadness were moods she was accustomed to.

But now, her bad days felt like something to be disappointed in - but that was just something that irked her. She knew that her bad days would be inevitable, she knew her frustration was justified but she just needed an excuse as to be annoyed, hoping that her annoyance would force her to have more good days.

But, well, when she had admitted this to James - and Beau, and Bertie, and all of her friends for that matter, they had all told her that that wasn't how she was going to get better...that instead of feeling disappointed in the bad days, take the time to reflect on how much good days she had.

"How are you doing, Phoebe?" she smiled at the use of her first name, remembering a time before when he said he wished for a name for her and she had given him permission to use her first name. It hardly stuck, he would find himself so used to calling her Bea that he hardly ever called her Phoebe - only catching himself before talking when he would laugh and call her Phoebe, ranting on and on about how it's such an unfamiliar name to call her now.

"I'm good," she whispered, sitting up and leaning her head on his shoulder, "I think...well, I think I'm almost there. It's been eight months since it happened, and sometimes the nightmares make me feel like it has been a day...it's terrifying. For the longest time, the fact that it was so easy for him to sneak into my house scared me more than anything - and I can remember the nights I didn't sleep.

I couldn't sleep at night when it was still dark outside. I had to wait until the sun was in the sky before I could even settle and even then, I had to make sure that James was awake because he was the one who would never leave my side. I would fall asleep leaning into him and when I would wake up I would still be in the exact same position because he would never move.

I can remember when I'd lay awake all night just staring at the wall and remembering and feeling like I wasn't even in my own body...like I was an outsider and I was just there, and he took everything from me and even talking about it just makes me so...so sick but it's not as bad as it used to be.

It's not as bad as when I couldn't decipher whether my nightmares were even that...if it had happened again or my mind was just being cruel, or when I still had those bruises - and don't get me wrong I still have the wound...I still have the disgusting scars all over my stomach and my legs and I hate them, I hate them so much but there's nothing I can do about it.

But I know," she whispered, tears glazing, and hand so tightly curled around Bertie's that he bit down on his lip to stop from yelping, "I know that if I see him again, I will kill him. I won't hold myself back, I don't care what the consequences of my actions are - but he is out there living his life doing who the fuck he wants, or whatever the fuck he wants whilst he's left me like this.