killer instinct - || h.s. ||

23

NOTE: hey! grab some snacks, this chapter is long asf

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" i never did believe in the ways of magic, but i'm beginning to wonder why "

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aurora astor.

I hit a low on graduation day, not that my life has reached a high in months. It's been this consistent low level that will occasionally dip.

I looked out, the second that diploma got placed in my hands, and I saw endless heads of people. All of them there for different reasons, for different people. I looked out there and I saw so many fucking people and not a single one there for me. That day is a milestone, you hope to have your family by your side, you hope to have people celebrating your progression through life.

There was nothing for me to celebrate other than the constant reminder that every step I take isn't something I deserve.

But I forgot for some time, I forgot. All of it. Like bliss running through my head, it reminded me of what I was supposed to feel when I got my diploma when he actually danced with me out on the pavement. He makes that possible, helping me in more ways than he knows.

And I have no reason to trust him, I don't even know him in all honesty but – him. Everything about him reminds me of comfort, it's nostalgic for some odd reason that I can't put my finger on. The way his voice sounds has now affiliated to solace, the way he respects my boundaries in some ways, and the way he's such a mystery to me that I can't stay away.

He's like the sheer feeling I got when I went home to a bouquet of yellow flowers on my doormat.

Sunflowers.

It intrigued me to know who they were from, there's no way in hell they were Harry. But I disregarded it, while yes it's lurking in my soul, I have bigger problems on my mind.

Nevertheless, suffocating is what this feels like. It's like being numb and suffocating at the same time while the world is moving full speed ahead without waiting for you to catch up.

My headache doesn't help matters as I try to rationalize all of this in my head but it doesn't make sense. It never makes sense and it's driving me absolutely insane.

So what does one totally sane person do? They go find answers or attempt to.

I walk through my apartment, tugging on a pair of loose black jeans with a tight, cropped lavender short-sleeve. Over top, for warmth, I slide on a violet corduroy button-down that is one too many sizes too big that I have to roll the sleeves.

I dab on light makeup to cover up the fading bruises on my face, examining the freshly forming pink scar on my cheekbone from a previous fight. All I can manage to do is take a deep breath and pull myself away from the mirror.

I turn the blinding lights off in my bathroom before I walk out, grabbing my backpack and sliding my feet into my vans. I swipe my keys from the countertop, take another deep breath, and walk out of my apartment.

I run my fingers through my hair to ruffle the wavy curls and head down the stairs, hearing my footsteps echo through the vacant stairwell as I get to the bottom.

I push the door open. The brisk air hits me hard and I immediately feel my heart slam in my chest whilst staggering back for a second. I vividly picture the dead bodies on the pavement in some sort of odd flashback haunting my mind.