Ending It All (Draco Malfoy Fanfic)

Chapter Five - Bad to Worse

Hi! You'll be getting a glimpse of what depression and PTSD actually feels like here. A lot of you seem to write them constantly feeling sad or angry, but that is just not the case. Don't ask how I know this. Enjoy!

---------------------------

Draco opened his eyes the next morning, feeling more dead than he ever had before in his entire life. He didn't understand the emotion he was feeling, trying to pinpoint the name for it becoming a time consuming and exhausting task. He wanted to get out of bed, but he didn't have the energy. After laying there for longer than he'd like to admit, he got up and started to get dressed.

After unbuttoning his shirt he looked up and saw his reflection in the mirror. Only he didn't see himself. He pinched the skin on his stomach and saw some bruises left behind from the night before. Tears welled up in his eyes, but the strange part was, he didn't feel sad. He wasn't sad or in pain, he wasn't happy that he had less fat than the day before, he wasn't angry at Anthony, Ron or McGonagall. Then he could come up with a name for what he was feeling. 

Nothing. He felt nothing. The pain had finally stopped, his sadness had finally ended and his anger at the world had vanished. But that didn't make him happy. Because he the happiness he had expected from his pain and sorrow ending, it wasn't there. The only thing he felt, was nothing. Nothing at all. And what did that look like? Nothing. He didn't look or act any different. He just felt different.

He tried to think of something that once made him sad or angry. He thought of witnessing Dumbledore's death. Nothing. He thought of his father beating him. Nothing. He thought of how much pain his mother was in. Nothing. He thought of Anthony and the night before. Nothing, but an inkling of fear that it might happen again. He thought of Harry. Nothing...

He was officially broken, and there was nothing he or anyone else could do about it, because no one would understand. He couldn't tell anyone he'd been raped. They would judge him for being so weak. He couldn't tell anyone about what was going on at home. It would only get worse for him and his mother. The only thing he could do, was try to feel again. And there was only one way he knew how to do that.

He went into the bathroom and took his shirt off, exposing the small pink scars on his wrist, running against his arteries. Scissors didn't do too much, but shavers didn't work and no one used razor blades as far as he knew. So scissors were his only option. He pressed as hard as he could, wanting it to actually bleed, and it did. It was a thin cut, and not too long, but it bleed. And when he washed it, a little bit of blood came back.

He felt oddly relaxed and tried to use the scissors on his Dark Mark, but the cuts he did manage to make were too thin for the mark to be affected. 

He sighed, putting the scissors away and getting dressed, looking in the mirror and for once not caring that his hair was a mess. He didn't bother to do anything, just smoothing it with his fingers before leaving.

He didn't bother with breakfast either, ignoring Violet when she tried to drag him to the Great Hall. His first class was Arithmancy, and so he headed there without even acknowledging the people around him. He ended up bumping shoulders with a certain red head he wasn't too fond of in that moment.

"Watch it, Malfoy," Ron sneered.

"Fuck off," the blonde replied.

"Someone's in a mood today."

Draco thought he'd feel more angry when meeting Ron, but he was really only annoyed. But this Gryffindor had gotten him detention for being raped, even if he didn't know about the whole getting raped part. 

Class was boring and Draco tried to do some work, but was also struggling to stay awake the whole time after getting very little sleep for Merlin knows how long. He sat there for most of the lesson drawing random doodles on the edges of his paper. They weren't very good - or, he didn't think they were very good. Really, they were better than most people older than him could do.