❝𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴,
𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘢❞
𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 was a somewhat quiet, yet mischievous guy who had trouble tailing him since he was a mere one year-old. He encounters a girl, whose only known attribute wa...
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CIII. ACCEPTANCE OF THE POISON
21:79 ─❁────────── 31:80
◁ Ⅱ ▷
❝How long will it be cute
All this crying in my room❞
༻───────────────༺
ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER POISON.
Well, perhaps that was just her general thoughts every morning she were to flutter her eyes open. The feeling was like every moment she was to live another day was like drinking poison that would never kill her. And it was slowly driving her insane.
Why was she like this?
Why was it that every time she were to wake up from her slumber, she would hope — unnecessarily hope — that things might change, that her surroundings might differ from the days before, that the world would change while she was gone for the few hours... but of course, that was too much for her to ask as everything would only be the same.
But what did she expect anyway? A miracle?
Don't make yourself laugh, Lucia.
As Lucia laid on Ron's bed, her eyes would immediately travel around the many posters that filled the room before they settled on the makeshift cot near the bed where Harry always slept on. Although she daily reminded herself to clean that up for Mrs. Weasley, she had always procrasinated to the point of forgetting, but perhaps that was just her mind playing tricks on her.
Perhaps that was just her mind wanting to put off the reminder that she should just let go now.
The sun shone brightly through the sheer scarlet curtains of the room that had kept shut since the start of August and after she began to find herself in deep despair. She must have fallen asleep in the middle of her crisis... well, what could she do, right? Despair and melancholy was all she's been these days, and quite frankly she felt as though it was slowly getting annoying.
Aside from the constant numbness, Lucia reckon that annoyance was also something she's been feeling along with the hopelessness that seldom rushes through her veins so prominently in the past. Maybe that was why she had covered the small mirror in the room with a blanklet — because she was getting annoyed of herself everytime she were to see herself in the mirror.
If she felt as if she wanted to slit her throat everytime she was to see herself in the mirror, she couldn't imagine what the three Weasleys felt whenever they were to see her sorry state. She wouldn't even be surprised if they were starting to hate her.
