Aurora liked to think of her life as one that, unlike seemingly everybody else nowadays, she did not want to re-live.
Sometimes, when she's lying awake at night, she likes to think that the fates, or God or whoever it was that planned out peoples li...
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Aurora Black was no coward; she had thought relentlessly for her entire life, through rough moons and bloodshed bathroom floors. Aurora was a fighter, but that didn't necessarily mean that she felt like one.
Three days. Aurora hadn't left her room in three days. She hadn't eaten a single meal, her curtains were permanently shut and there were empty packets of Marlboro's scattered all other the floor; she had been alternating between the bathroom, her tote bag and her bed for three days; seventy-two hours; almost half a week. The worst part? It didn't feel like it.
To Aurora, it felt as if time was warping. Bending and morphing at it's own will, messing with Aurora's head and making her swallow her words or overthink whatever she was about to do. At one point, it would feel as if she had been in that room for an eternity, cramped and claustrophobic, yet at another, it felt as though it was still the night after - throwing up in the toilet and watching beads of blood drip slowly down the drain. Sometimes, Aurora would wake up dazed and disorientated, forgetting where she was and confused on what it was, or why she was there; to her it was all one big blur of passing time, minutes, seconds, hours and days blending into one another and becoming one, large strange mess.
She had missed her Monday and Tuesday classes - not realizing that (1) it was Monday, or (2) that she still had to attend classes. She didn't really see the point, her end of year exams would be cancelled, so why should she study?
It was November third. Aurora was sat on her bed, her bed sheets soiled with a combination of burn marks, blood and sweat; she had nearly finished her last pack of cigarettes, and had only two left - one of which was about to be lit. She lifted her shaking hand - pale in the dim light - and placed the cigarette between her lips. They were chapped, rough from being chewed on, but Aurora paid no mind. Her wand was on the other side of the dorm. She had thrown it in a fit of rage, though she couldn't remember why.
Huffing, she slid out of bed. Aurora didn't want too, the November air was ruthless, and she was dressed only in a nightgown, but her wand was sat in the corner, and she needed it. Her feet pattered gently on the stone floor, her legs bruised and rough, she stumbled slightly, feeling faint, but managed to grasp onto the dresser before she fell over and broke her nose. When she got to the corner, she reached down and groped around for her wand. It wasn't there.
Confused, Aurora stood up straight again. Her head felt light, and the stabbing pain behind her eyes was rather irritating. She rubbed her eyes aggressively, dots and smears of white lights flashing on her eyelids. She opened her eyes. It wasn't there.
Huffing, Aurora turned around. There it was, on her bed. She picked it up, her brow furrowed - perhaps she had imagined the entire scenario? She had been sure she had thrown it....
No. She had thrown it and then picked it up again to light another cig. Hadn't she? She couldn't remember. Had she dreamed that she had thrown her wand? But it was in the corner, a minute ago? Or was it an hour ago? Yesterday?
