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Here We Go Again

Chapter 21: Sinking

POV: Emily

I was doing it again.

"You're doing it again."

I knew that I was, I just couldn't help myself.

"Do you do it on purpose? Some people say you do. I think you just can't help it. Your mind...Well, it's programmed that way, isn't it?"

My mind's not set on right. That's the thing.

"Then again, I can't really comment, can I? I'm the mental one."

People label you crazy because you have eccentric views, because your freedom is more vibrant than others, because the words that come out of your mouth are the things that they consider improbable or too inadequate to say in public. They're wrong, aren't they? That's not being crazy, that's just being whimsical or an individual rather than a piece of a giant plot of narrow-mindedness.

Crazy is having no control on your emotions, no control on your thoughts, no control on your behavior. Crazy is letting memories eat away your present. Crazy is allowing it. Crazy is a voice in your head that shouldn't be there. A voice that is no one else's but your own; one that says the things that you know are the honest truth, and that doesn't let you forget the rotten blood in your veins that's contaminated a great part of you.

Crazy is me.

"I've heard that you're doing much better now—"

It's a lie.

"—but I can see right through you."

That makes one.

"Don't you think it's weird, Taylor? We're hardly the best of friends, yet I can see you withering away as the days progress. I find it tragically beautiful."

It's not beautiful nor tragic, it's fated.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Things just slip out of my mouth sometimes. No wonder I have half of the school completely annoyed with me."

People do hate honesty.

"Not you, though. You always listen, regardless if you feel like I've crossed a line or what I'm saying is completely bonkers. You just listen. You're a tomb, Taylor."

A tomb...

"Look, I know that you probably wanted to be alone, hence why you're hiding underneath this tree when you should be in Astronomy class, but I really would like to talk to you about something. I know it's not my place, and Potter would murder me if he ever knew that I was bringing it up, but you're the only person I know that...I broke up with Alice."

"You broke up with Alice?" For the first time in what seemed like a moment but was definitely more than thirty minutes, I turned to Lysander Scamander and raised an eyebrow at him. "When? Why?"

"Before Sixth Year started, actually," he said casually, but there's was a glint of deep sadness and regret in his blue eyes.

My questioning did not wear off. There's no way Lysander and Longbottom broke up during the holidays. I've seen them together around the castle—haven't I? Have I even talked to Lysander at all this semester?

"Is that why Rose said she's seen you down in the gutter?" That's all I remember of Lysander all year. A passing observation Rose mentioned one night when we studied for our Charms exam. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Maybe that's how long he's been grieving his broken heart.

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