When Nobody Cares

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Nott's POV

"I was never really close to my parents. No, that's an understatement. I might as well not have had parents at all. They were barely around. When they were they didn't talk to me. A curt nod as we passed in the hallways. Until I was about 5 I didn't realise that parents were supposed to take care of you. It was okay though. I had my house elf, her name was Twinky. Twinky was the only one who cared about me.

The first time i had a full conversation with my father was when I was ten. He had heard from Twinky that I recieved my letter from Hogwarts and he wanted to congratulate me. It was the most awkward conversation I've ever had, including the one I had with McGonagall after she caught me in the broom closet with that hot Ravenclaw. . .

Anyways he congratulated me, I said thanks, he asked me if I was excited and I said yes and he left.

I wasn't excitwed though, I was absolutely terrified to be away from Twinky. As far as I knew, she was the only one who could love me. I went anyways. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

I was so excited to come home every year to see Twinky. She was excited to see me too, she always waited by the door until I arrived. Then after coming home on the train after my fourth year I walked in the door and no one was there waiting for me. I got really worried. I called out for Twinky, but she didn't answer. I started looking around through all the rooms, thinking she might just be sleeping or maybe in a part of the house too far away from me to hear. I checked every room in the house, no Twinky. With a growing sense of dread I looked into the cupboard under the sink in the powder room off the kitchen. I saw her. She was lying face down in her nest of blankets.

"Twinky?" I called out to her "Twinky, what's wrong?"

She didn't respond.

I rushed over to her. I grabbed her and turned her around. There was a deep red stain blossoming from the front of the pillowcase she wore as a toga.


I was crazy with grief. I walked through the long corridors in endless laps, wringing my hands, tears pouring down my face.

"No no no no no no..."

A strange force was driving me towards a guest bedroom that I've never been in before. I was disgusted at what I met there. The first thing I registered was the smell, it was revolting. It was a mixture of vomit and alcohol. The next thing I saw was my Father lying on the bed with vomit all over his shirt, passed out drunk. That wasn't the worst of it though. There was blood on his hands. It wasn't his own. A bloody knife lay beside his bed."

I broke down in sobs.

The next thing I knew Harry was beside me, rubbing my back.

"It's okay to cry." he said.

I lay sobbing on my bed for a couple minutes until I regained enough composure to continue on with my story.

"He killed her, he killed her in a drunken rage. I didn't even know he drank! Hell, I didn't think he knew where we lived anymore, he was so rarely there!

I was so overcome with rage. I made my way towards his bed but then I blacked out.

When I woke up I was still on the ground in the same room I had passed out in. I don't know what made me lose consciousness, but my best guess was shock. i think my body did that so I wouldn't have to cope with whatever I was about to do to my father. Not that he wouldn't have deserved it! He killed her!

My father had left, but the vomit was still everywhere. Now there was no one to clean it up. I cast a simple vanishing charm on the entire bed, knowing that even if an army of house elves cleaned it it still wouldn't be salvageable.It would still bear the taint of my fathers filth.

I was so lonley. I wasshocked, scared, and most of all, sad. I was all alone in this big cold house. I started obsessing over what Twinky must've been feeling as she died. Did she die instantly? Was it painful? Was she concious?

I started to make myself bleed to try and make up for the pain that Twinky must've felt. I don't know what my train of thought was, but somehow it made me feel a bit less guilty. Even though I admit to myself that there was nothing I could've done, I still felt responsible.I guess causing myself pain was the only way to make me feel better. The problem was, once I started, I couldn't stop! I don't even try! It's impossible to overcome and addiction without anyone who wants you to! Maybe once, when my mother saw my scars as we walked past each other in the hallway if she had said something, I would've been able to stop. I wore short sleeves on purpose when she came home once and she saw the scars. She looked away. She doesn't care about me! No one does!"

There. That was it. I had just finally spilled the WHOLE story. They knew exactly why I was what I was. I waited for someone to say something. Anything.

"It's not true that no one cares about you Nott.. I want you to stop doing this to yourself. I hate it that you think you deserve this. No one does." said Blaise.


okay i'm going on vacation to British Columbia in two days. skiing! holidays! yay! VOMMENT VOMMENT!

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