'And he's the best fuck that ever walked. He's beautiful - rich, in money and everything else; he's a rockstar to boot, trapped in the body of a fighter. And how he fought; at a state of turmoil with himself - somewhere inside his soul that only she...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
♱
'Like the morning sun your eyes will follow me As you watch me wander, curse the powers that be Cause all I want is here and now But it's already been and gone Our intentions always last that bit too long
In the full moon's light I listen to the stream And in between the silence hear you calling me But I don't know where I am And I don't trust who I've been And If I come home how will I ever leave.'
Hera had spent her whole life making decisions. It used to be the only control she had over her miserable life, and only recently did she realise how much she hated it. This summer, Hera let other people decide the little things for her; where to sit and what to eat, when to sneak in and when to sneak out.
It felt so... liberating to live day by day rather than how she had been before. Hera wondered if she'd be able to go back to order after the beautiful chaos she'd become comfortable with.
Summer had been everything she'd hoped for and sometimes more. But each night, when she curled up in her twin-sized bed at the Dursley's, she reverted into that small, confused girl she always had been She would often roll to the cold side of her bed — too aware of the clock ticking across the hall, and the flicker of lights and the strange loneliness that manifested itself into her innermost thoughts.
If she wasn't with someone, and if her brain wasn't constantly occupied, she'd sink back to how low she felt before.
Hera sits on the roof of the Dursley's house, a cigarette between her fingers as she wraps her knitted cardigan tighter around her shoulders. Sitting surrounded by intoxicating smoke, she finds herself in almost the same position as she was the year before.
She'd tried to get a good sleeping schedule for around twenty days in July but soon gave up — as long as she was eating alright and not stuck inside all day, she figured she'd be fine.
Speaking of eating, Petunia had enforced a new diet after Dudley's school nurse had contacted them with concerns about the boy's weight and home life. It wouldn't take a genius to know Vernon and Petunia weren't well suited to parenthood, and their neglectful ways had eventually had its impact on Dudley too.
