A Magician's Sea

VIII

I'm used to this sort of thing. Sadly enough, I was almost too used to this exact voice in my head.

"Welcome back, here to offer your one sentence-a-day of useless information, again?" I asked tiredly.

Yes, this wasn't the first time a deep, dark, spooky voice had decided to rob me of my peace and quiet. Nevertheless, I didn't expect an answer from it, because it never answered me before.

The voice decided to move into my mind sometime around when Albus left, and here I was... dealing with an annoying house guest who said some very ominous things.

"A wand isn't who I am? What in Zeus' balding head does that even mean?"

Brushing the hair from my eyes, I sat up and looked at the hand my very fashionable, cool, spectacular, amazing, sexy ring was on.

"I'm a person, not a wand, obviously," I teased amusingly to my hand.

Was I crazy for talking to my own hand? Well... we'll skip that conversation.

Twiddling my thumbs together I crossed my legs and stared at the ceiling, humming the tune to an old commercial jingle— The Home Depot.

"A wand isn't who I am?" I repeated quietly to myself this time, maybe it actually had meaning.

I cracked my knuckles before sitting up, criss-cross applesauce style with my hand in my lap. I coughed briefly before beginning a very strange talk with my... hand.

"Hey... man?" I awkwardly greeted.

"So like, what you said earlier—what does that mean? I know we don't exactly," I rolled my other hand in a circle, "talk very much, but I'm having a tough time learning this magic business so I could use all the help I can get."

...

Silence. Obviously.

I bit my lip, waiting desperately for an answer that may never come. There weren't very many options I had left, and trying to communicate with some creepy voice came before asking either Albus or even thinking of praying to Dad.

Leaning back, I craned my head up as I seemingly tried to see past the cracked ceiling to the skies.

"I really am lost, aren't I? I wonder what you'd do in my position, Wise Girl?"

It's so hard to forget. Every time, I'm just hit with a bigger boulder, a sharper blade. There was only so much I could block out—only so much that I could ignore.

I felt a familiar warmth touch my cheek, just like she did when she held my head up for me.

Chuckling, I wiped the tears that tattooed my face. It physically pained me to try to blur her face, pain much more potent than any Ancient Greek curse could cause.

It feels like a tear in my soul. It just wasn't fair.

"It just isn't fair."

Slowly but surely, I pulled my knees tight against my chest, burrowing my head into the safety of the darkness. I wanted to leave this world, it wasn't real, it wasn't my world.

No matter how hard I try, I can't commit to this reality. I can't forget everything, simply because deep down I didn't want to, I was attached. I'm my own obstacle, and that scared me.

My breathing rose quicker and the dancing of my chest grew bigger. I could feel the sea-green drain from my eyes, black filling my irises.

This was my only escape. It happens too quick, too sudden, too late to ever stop. But, I like it this way. Anything—even a traumatic episode like this — was more comforting.