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CHAPTER TEN ❝sectumsempra❞
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PHYSICAL PAIN NEVER STAYED. The scars would fade and the wounds would heal, the person would get right back up and go back to whatever hurt them. Children who scrapped their knees skateboarding would stand up, clean themselves, and go back to the thing that had hurt them. A never-ending cycle that continued into teenage years and adulthood. Bruises would go away, you can learn to forgive and forget. It's only a temporary pain, nothing permanent.
Psychological pain is the one that never leaves; that's the one that manipulates the brain and causes a pain that will never end, a prison with escape. People are less likely to forget that, though they could still be conditioned to forgive and forget.
The dark girl looked out the window. The trees were swaying, so careless in their movements, so free and fun – wild and young forever – whereas she felt herself growing so terribly old with every move. She was not careless, she couldn't afford to be, so she envied the trees before her.
There was never a time in her life that she behaved like the trees. The swings on the playgrounds weren't fun, weren't a sense of flying for her, they were where she went to cry and hide from her home. The laughter of other children was not shared by her. Always the outcast, always the freak amongst them. She was the wailing children, she was the sad ghost, the girl who didn't quite look like the rest of them. So they never approached her, never asked her why she had so many tears streaming down her face, only stared at her and called her names, but never venturing to laugh in her face.
Now her teenage years were stolen from her as well. Given away would be more accurate. She had traded them for some future power and potential, a legacy for herself, and now she found herself regretting the promises she had made. This was not a legacy she wanted; this was a legacy she wanted to forget about. Yet, it was too late to burn back. She could only go forward and not speak of her legacy, not speak of the disgrace she had presented herself with, and accept it with a brave face.
She didn't want to look down at her tea leaves, didn't want to see if they had prophesized her life as a murderer or one of the guilty party. And the person before dared not to reach for her cup and tell her the future she had forced upon herself; her partner didn't talk to her at all, not that she minded. They were not friends and the person didn't want to even give her acquaintanceship. Not that she would take it, anyway.
"Did you hear that Draco Malfoy is in the hospital wing?" a girl near her whispered.
Rosalie frowned, though small as to not make it seem like she was upset or had heard what they were saying. Still, she turned her head slightly to hear the girls' words better.
"Really?" the other one whispered back, "What happened?"
"I heard that he was attacked by another student, but I haven't been able to get anything else," the first girl told her friend.
