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"DO NOT TRUST THE DARKNESS"
Being in the hospital for a month is mind-numbing and became increasingly dull a while ago. So the days seem to drag by, she has her work finished in three hours because she is just too desperate for any semblance of entertainment. Her brother visits every night, he got permission from Flitwick to do, and he eats dinner with her. She enjoys it more than she can put into words. Every other day Madam Pomfrey lets her friends visit, mostly because it's the only time she ever smiles.
The only challenge she really gets is when she's allowed to walk. Madam Pomfrey says in two more weeks she'll be strong enough to leave. She stumbles too much when she walks, her legs still shake and she can't walk straight. Patience, it'll take time, she'd told. Patience and time, Elise isn't sure she has any more give to the world. Whatever supply she used to have, is long gone. She doesn't have anything left to give and no one stops asking.
Elise wonders if she was more outspoken what would change. She might have complained or done somethings. She doesn't know. She knows that she's always miserable, she knows she wants to leave and she knows she can't complain. Not when Dumbledore's words won't leave her alone, haunting her like she's a criminal on the run from every authority. Technically, she is, seeing as her very existence is now illegal and all. But not complaining is one of the Headmaster's unspoken rules.
Tomorrow is going to be the most humiliating, horrifying, and possibly the most painful day of her life.
Let's just say she's not looking forward to the Full Moon.
And, she should be asleep.
Even though she's tired, she is not sleeping. She should be, tomorrow is a big day. She also has to see or meet Remus Lupin- it's going to be horrible. She already knows that.
She knows saying she didn't mean means nothing, she knows that saying she didn't think is stupid. She knows all of it, and she really doesn't want him to go to jail.
She's also scared because all she can remember is his eyes in the dark. All she can remember of the entire attack is him. There is nothing else left in her mind, there probably will never be anything else. She can't remember the wolf, just black eyes.
She wants to scream.
Someone knocks a vase over.
She now wants to be very quiet and hide.
She grabs a quill, it's sort of sharp, off the side table, and sits up. Waiting, people are whispering too quiet to hear but loud enough to make out the tone. It's annoyed and apprehensive. She grips the quill tighter, and she's surprised she's able to hear every footstep and the swish of a cloak, the sound of quiet slow breathing.
When the curtains are pulled back and a cloak is pulled off, she says sitting but has a quill pressed against someone's neck. Her first reaction was not supposed to be violence, but she couldn't stop. It was some new, unnatural instinct, she didn't like it. She didn't like it at all, it was new and weird and made her feel like someone she wasn't.
