ᴜɴᴅᴏɴᴇ | ᴅ.ᴍ

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

THE sun was shining brightly. It was probably around seven in the morning. I squeezed my eyes shut from the bright lights. I didn't want to wake up, I felt exhausted. Every single bone in my body just felt completely numb, as if it had been rolled across sandpaper over and over again.

I pushed myself off the bed, taking a minute as I pressed my hands against my eyes, pushing my hair back. Walking towards the culinary as I pulled open the fridge, taking out whole wheat bread, popping it over to the toaster as I pulled out the eggs. I wasn't much of a cook, didn't try to learn it, ever, I didn't have to.

I cracked the egg against the edge of the pan as I let it fry. For a moment there, I wondered if I could just raise my hands or even just mutter a spell as all of this could've been cooked within a minute. But I couldn't. I needed to keep myself as occupied as I possibly could.

Salt and Pepper. Toasted Bread. Fried eggs.

Sitting by myself on the squared dining table, I flipped open the newspaper, both the American one and the Scotland one. I had kept the magical newspaper hidden beneath, muggles wouldn't be able to handle moving pictures without screaming as if they saw a mouse running around the house.

It was brightly sunny today, the weather had been quite awful the last couple of days. It was a mixture of snow and rain, back and forth. I couldn't decide on what clothing pattern to stick with because the weather couldn't pick what emotion it wanted to channel today. I guess that is someone I could relate to, I couldn't decide on what emotion I wanted to feel. It's like feeling everything just made me feel entirely numb. I couldn't decide if I liked it.

Hair up or down? I stared at myself in the mirror. Down it is. Brushing out the front strands as I pulled my hair into a low ponytail. Applying toothpaste onto the brush as I began to brush my teeth, was one of my least favorite moments of the day. I was stuck with brushing my teeth for sixty seconds, as I stared at myself in the mirror and couldn't help but see things I didn't want to see.

A button-up shirt with black pants will do. Grabbing all my necessary paperwork, along with a bottle full of water. Necklace — I needed my necklace. Where was my necklace? Where was it? I went back to my room, shuffling through papers, documents, pens, and pencils. I looked through the jewelry holder, but I couldn't find it. There it was, on my bedside table.

Heading out of the apartment, I closed my door, locking it.

"Good morning, Evelyn," my lovely neighbor called out to me. Well, I wouldn't call her so lovely. I remember her knocking on my door at three in the morning when she lost her cat, and then again when her boyfriend broke up with her. Then she would telephone me every morning at two, so she could fall asleep, but then it stopped all of a sudden when she started dating someone, again.

"Good morning, Lily, how have you been?" I asked as I played with my necklace, around my neck. "Have the cats been feeling well? Did the doctors say anything yet?"

"Oh they've been just fine, it was just a hairball, they said. So before they came back, I called in a lady to clean out my entire house from every single corner. I thought it was my fault, but then I realized they lick themselves to keep their fur clean which is why the hairballs occur and I have zero control over that." She let out a breath as I pressed my lips together, nodding my head.

"Well that does make sense, anyways, let me know if something. I'm heading out to see Vance, he's been sending me every type of letter on every single piece of paperwork. I feel sorry for the mailman sometimes. Had to give him my Chinese food one time because he knocked at my door at three in the morning, once."

"Oh my," she gasped, "that is horrible."

"Dealing with the paperwork is quite exhilarating, I will agree with that. I don't know how Zeke keeps up with it if you ask me." I huffed, holding onto my papers.

"Oh no, not the paperwork, silly," she laughed, "I'm saying it's quite horrible that you had to give up your Chinese food, I could never do that."

I chuckled dryly. "Yeah," I said, "I'll see you around.

It was too bright today. Something wasn't right. I haven't felt like this in — doesn't matter. That's not the point. It's a normal day. A normal day of me going to work, submitting paperwork before Vance decides to find ways of possibly killing me. I walked past the fast-food restaurants, I never knew this many existed. It was exciting. There was every type of apparel shop, I've gone to almost all of them, I believe. As Zeke said so.

"Two cups of coffee, please?" I asked the waitress in front of me as she nodded her head, walking away. I waited, looking outside the window, a flash of a familiar face, I blinked. It's just too sunny, I'm dehydrated. I drank some water, everything was fine.

I looked back outside again, and cars were honking loudly. People were screaming at each other as traffic filled up the roads. There was never a time or even a day where traffic wasn't there, or a lady screaming at the side of a police officer for letting someone bike on the path walk.

Her dark-colored hair — dark green eyes, it was her. No, it wasn't. What was happening? "Evelyn," I heard my name as my heart raced. It was happening, it was here. No — it couldn't be. I have to go, disappear. " Evelyn." I heard my name again, I felt like my breath was stuck in my throat, I couldn't breathe. No, I can.

"Evelyn." I turned around. "Order 502, you're Evelyn, correct?" I blinked at the waiter, I took a second. "You ordered uh — two coffee's, right? Order 502?"

"Yes erm — yes, I did." I shook my head. I don't know what was happening, or why I was feeling this way. It was just an illusion, nothing else. "How much? Sorry, it's been quite a day." The day had just begun.

"That will be five dollars and fifty cents, would you also like a coffee holder with that? It's five extra cents." He proposed as I nodded my head. Placing both cups of coffee into the holder as I walked out of the shop. Everything was fine, just take a deep breath in.

I had a busy schedule ahead of me. I needed to have my game straight in the head. Things needed to be done. I quickly walked away from the busy street, the noises, the people talking too loudly, the excessive loud chewing.

It was New York City, after all, the city that never sleeps. This was the city I needed to keep myself distracted and occupied and allow myself to get things down. This is what I needed. I hope they understand.

Walking down the streets, avenues, and signboards everywhere. Detailed coffee shops, every type of bar in town — liquor — I wasn't much of a drinker, or so I thought. It was different — different from how I grew up.

I've been sending letters to my mother, she has replied to them a few times — a handful of them. She was recently proposed to by someone, an Italian guy. I had no objections, obviously. I think what mattered the most to me is that she was happy, that she was doing better. Makes one of us. My sisters were attending the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it was a couple of hours away from here, I stopped by a couple of times.

Pushing open the doors of the office as I dropped by the letters at the reception. "Linda, any new mail for me, please be a yes?" I asked as she gave me a faint smile. She was wearing a red blouse with a black pencil skirt, she had raven-colored hair with dark brown eyes.

"I wish I could say yes, but sadly it's a no. There's new mail for Zeke, want to do me a favor and drop it at his desk? I'll give you a lollipop." She smiled brightly, handing me the mails as I rolled my eyes playfully.

"Fine," I said, "only if you pick up the afternoon lunch from the restaurant today. It's too hot to walk outside again, I've had enough of New York for today." I took the mail from her hands as I flipped through them, looking for someone in particular without realizing it. "Has Olive handed in the assignment for the Stone's Project? I remember that Camille was looking for people to invest into it?"

Linda sat back down into her seat, her nails clicking against the keyboard as she looked up at me. "I don't think so," she groaned, "she has been miserably late on every single thing. She wasn't like that. Something weird has been happening with her mother I believe, do you remember from a time ago when her birth mother passed?"

"Yeah I do," I frowned, "it was quite depressing." I wasn't a person big on dealing with deaths. It just never came as something I could recover from, it always left a mark on me. Olive's birth mother used to bake me raspberry cupcakes, it reminded me of someone. "What has been happening with her adoptive mother?"

"I shouldn't be saying anything," she bit down on her bottom lip, "but she's in the hospital, she seems to not be getting any better, and Olive hasn't been taking it very well. I tried helping with the projects but it isn't where my major is."

My lips parted as soon as the news was delivered to me. Olive had been through a lot, her family was always welcoming to me when I first moved to New York. We didn't stay in contact much but still tried to find our way to know about each other's well-being. "Do you know where her mother might be admitted?"

"I heard it was Saint Langone Hospital, the surgical emergency admissions floor." She handed me a piece of paper with all of the information.

"Should I even care to ask where you got all of this information from?" I asked as a smile came upon her lips.

"I'm good at what I do, Evelyn. Now, go do your work and let me do mine." She waved her hand as I shook my hand. "Also tell Zeke to return me twenty dollars from last week, he's been dodging me!" She yelled as I walked through the doors of the elevator.

The smile wiped from my face as I thought of Olive's mother. Birth and adopted parents were a touchy subject in my life. I still haven't tried to even figure out that part of my life just yet. I wasn't even sure if I even wanted to, it isn't going to do me any sort of leave. What if I'm better left in the dark? What if it's better that I don't know and just continue my life in New York City that I have been?

I left everything. I left everyone. I couldn't bear it. I just needed to get away from them. I needed to get away from him. I wanted to leave everything behind and start a new life and pretend none of it happened. To pretend that Scotland was never something I had gone to. I haven't heard about anything related to the Dark Lord.

I haven't even used magic in a while, except for when I had to get fake papers for attending a fake school and a fake degree. I needed to reset and move on. I just wanted to breathe but it felt like I was suffocating myself even more.

Pain stung my eyes as I just felt the need to scream, to cry, to yell, and break things. I wanted to tear apart the papers in my hand, to inflict pain on someone, to watch them beg for my mercy. I was on the verge of just disappearing again.

Until the elevator doors opened and it reminded me of my sanity once again, about why I had been pushing through it all this time.

"Good morning, stranger," Zeke walked through the elevator doors, a coffee mug in his hand. He was smiling, smiling more than he usually does.

"You look in an insanely good mood, have you won the lottery yet?" I asked him as he let out a laugh. I was smiling again. He was wearing a white button-up shirt, going along with a navy blue pair of pants.

"Winning the lottery would be more exciting, we could've booked a flight to Hawaii or even Edinburgh." He moved forward, pressing the button of the elevator that would lead to the sixth floor. "Though that's not the reason I've been smiling ."

"Well before you tell me that," I quickly said, "this is all of your mail. Linda gave me the job of giving you these in return for a lollipop even though I didn't get one." I realized as I looked back at him. He has blue eyes, they were as blue as the sky, I liked looking into colored eyes — they felt absolutely magical.

"Thank you, m'lady." He looked through the mails one by one as I leaned back on the walls of the elevator. "Do you remember I gave in the application for one of the promotions to get a work opportunity in either Long Island or Chicago?"

"Yeah, I vividly remember." I turned to face him. "You made me stay up the entire night to help you finish up the application, to make sure every document was in there, and correct. You also ate all of the vegetable rice I ordered from the restaurant." I smiled as his eyes glittered.

He leaned on the opposite side of me, strands of his dark hair resting on his forehead. "I do remember eating your vegetable rice, I'll make up for it. However, the application results came back last night. I opened it and quite literally dropped my favorite turtle mug that we got together from the small store in Brooklyn."

"You dropped that mug? Zeke, that was insanely expensive. It cost us fifty dollars, you jackass." I pushed him back as he caught my wrist.

"We'll get ten more," he smiled.

"What? Do you want to spend that much on mugs? You're insane." He smiled as my curiosity grew. "You're hilarious, we need to get back to work."

"I got the promotion," he said as my eyes widened.

"You what?" I asked to reassure myself.

"I got the promotion." He spoke once more with enthusiasm. "I got it last night, and I've been meaning to tell you, maybe we could go together to get those mugs again."

I quickly threw my arms around him as I pulled him into a hug. His arms wrapped around my waist as I  comfortably leaned onto him. "You could've told me that before all the dramatics." He chuckled.

"I know," he said, "but I like your curious face." He pulled back as my face lined across from his. "You look adorable when you think."

"I'm really happy for you." He looked at me as his eyes looked down at my lips. My body stilled in his arms, completely forgetting the conversation we were having.

"It wouldn't be possible without you." He looked back at me. I took a deep breath in as a faint smile appeared on my face. "So thank you for everything." His hand came on my cheek as my words got stuck in my throat, this wasn't a new feeling.

"This is all of your hard work, Zeke." My arms slid down from around him. "You worked for this," I assured him, "though I'll take that trip to the Brooklyn store, they had these cute sets of pens I wanted."

His thumb caressed across my cheek as his eyes were glittering with excitement. "That's a promise." He leaned in, slowly, as my eyes shut quickly. He pressed his lips to mine, they were warm, as I slightly loved my lips. Flashes of platinum blonde hair and silver eyes, his whispered in my ear, his cold touch as he would stare at me like it's the only thing he wants.

No, leave. Get out of my head.

Focus on Zeke, blue eyes, and dark hair.

Dammit, Evelyn.

I pulled away, as he looked at me. "I'll meet you back at the apartment?" I asked as he pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear.

"I'll bring the groceries, you never have waffles or raspberries in your fridge, it's annoying," he said as the elevator dinged at the sound of the floor arriving.

"Alright," I smiled as the doors opened.

I quickly walked off to the other side of the floor. Smiling at the passing people as I opened the doors of the bathroom, locking it as my back pressed against the door. The day had only begun as I was already ready to bawl my eyes out.

I couldn't do this anymore. I can't get him out of my head. He won't leave, no matter how hard I try. Please leave, please. I just needed to take a deep breath in, I needed him to leave my head. He would usually hold me. No, I don't need him.

Just breathe.

Just fucking breathe for fucks sake. 

He had killed her, right in front of me.

I love you. I told him. I told him I loved him. I told him what I hadn't been able to tell anyone. I told him I loved him. I felt worthless, dirty, and used. He got what he wanted and took away something that meant so much to me.

I couldn't erase his touch. The way his lips brushed against my ear as he left small whispers. I wanted to erase his presence. His hand pressing straight on mine as he traced it with his fingers, slowly going up and down as he awoke the nerves in my head like a lightning being struck. He meant absolutely nothing to me.

"Do you feel this?" I remembered his words like they were words written across a book, those words were just ink. "Do you know how much I hate the color green?" I hate his words, I hate his voice. He was insufferable, everything about him.

I wish she was here, her delicate voice. Her laughter, the smell of her baked goods. I promised her, I had promised her I would help her. I promised her I would get her out of all of this. My hand was clutching my chest as I was trying to relax. I just couldn't.

I needed to get out of here. I quickly got up from the floor. Pressing onto the rectangle-shaped metal dispenser as I twisted the handle, rolling the napkins out of it. Dabbing it on my face as I wiped the tears, fanning my hand in the air to clear the redness in my eyes.

I needed to see her. I was going to go see her.

Twisting the knob of the door as I walked out of the bathroom. I was completely fine, I was in control. Picking up a few random papers as I took the stairs down to the reception.

"You're leaving? You just came in like twenty minutes ago?" Linda asked as I smiled.

"I'm going to work from home today, I realized I left a big stack of files at home. I might meet up with one of the clients too, don't wait for me." I told her as she shook her head.

"Wait, did you tell Zeke — "

I shut the door.

|

I was waiting.

The waiting rooms were one of the most anxious things to ever exist. I hated them. I didn't understand the point in them. They were pointless. I found them useless.

My eyes were looking at every single thing in the room. The way the posters were posted on the walls, the edges were slightly curved. The shapes of the rectangular tables as the corners were chipped off, the wood has scratch marks from little kids playing around it.

Magazines of random people on top of the glass table. Find your home, one of the papers said. Find what fits you best, the other said. I stared at the bold red letters as my eyes moved away. The walls were white, more in the off-white category, they were dull. The carpet was blue, it looked like it needed a deep cleaning.

I was sitting here left with my thoughts. I didn't want to think. For the first time in my life, I just wanted to let it all out to someone, to have someone to talk to without feeling like I'm going to throw up.

I just want to feel again, I want to feel without it feeling like a chore.

Think.

No, don't think.

Just breathe.

Why is this so —

"Ms. Young?" A voice chimed in as I looked up. "You're up next, just sign in right here." She handed me the papers as I nodded my head. "Thank you, just go in right here."

I got up from my seat. Walking right into the room. It had cushioned seats, small little toys around the corner with frog carpets, and neon-colored seats. The other side was filled with plants, they looked like they needed to be watered. My eyes landed upon her then.

"Evelyn," she said my name, "please, have a seat." Her hand motioned at the seat in front of her. She had long blonde hair, down to her rib cage. She was wearing a red sweater, smiling.

"Mrs. Anderson." I made myself comfortable on the couch, nails digging into my palms as I looked at her.

"No need to be so formal, call me Amelia, please."

"Amelia."

Her smile was warm and comforting. It was like a non-physical hug. It was something that you'd see from across the room and immediately feel safe. I smiled faintly, I was growing so uneasy inside.

"You seem distraught, is there anything you would like to talk to me about?" She asked me. I looked down, I wasn't sure anymore. I was quiet, not being able to speak. It's like I have died down.

"I'm not sure, actually," I said slowly, "I don't know, I thought I was. I don't know. I just came here because I felt the need to. I went into work this morning, everything was fine until it wasn't."

"Tell me whatever makes you feel comfortable, Evelyn. You know I'm always here for you. You don't need to view me as your therapist, I'm your friend, talk to me." She looked at me, setting her pen and small notepad aside.

"Zeke got his promotion." I greeted her with the good news first. "He told me when I got to work. I'm really happy and excited for him. Then he kissed me, and after that everything sort of just fell apart or it already did before that. I don't know, it all happened really quickly."

"It's okay, just take deep breaths in." She inhaled as I did everything she did. Deep breaths in, deep breaths out. Take your time. "It's alright, you're fine here, take your time. Talk when you're ready."

I blinked. Why was this so hard? Why am I sitting in this office? Why did I pay extra, to come a whole hour extra to this particular therapist that was named after my dead best friend? The best friend that died at the hands of the boy —

How does any of this make sense?

"Zeke and I aren't in a relationship. It was never like that, and he knows that. We're friends, we travel to places, eat out, and live in the same apartment. Sometimes he rents the motel next to our workplace when he has projects due. He told me he received a promotion, I'm really happy for him. Then he kissed me, and it all fell apart. I don't understand where it all went wrong, it just happened so quickly — "

"It's alright," she said to me, "you're talking too quickly, talk about it step by step, focus on every minor step, explain it to yourself." She was looking at me, I looked away.

"Zeke got a promotion last night," I repeated myself, "he told me when we met in the elevator. He received it last night but wanted to tell me face to face. It was a nice moment, and then he kissed me, and then it fell apart, it happened too quickly, dammit — I can't do this."

She pressed her lips together. She was waiting for me to figure it out myself. I thought of him when I kissed Zeke. That's why it all fell apart. I felt so guilty for thinking of him that it took all of me to fall apart so quickly, like glass shattering everything once it hits the ground.

"Did you know when you write things down, it helps to understand everything better?" She was talking to me, to distract my mind from the darker places. "I journal, it helps me concentrate, helps me focus better."

"I journal," I said, "I journal every single night, I have since I went to Hog — to Highschool, I have been for quite a while." Hogwarts. One of the most magical places I've ever experienced, but also the place that contains one of the worst memories. I couldn't tell her about the magical school filled with wizards and a Dark Lord that is probably ought to kill me.

"I have a purple journal, I started writing in it when I was a kid. It helped me clear my thoughts and my decisions. I have a box full of so many journals, some of them have a tiny lock on it that anyone can easily break into." She laughed slightly, I smiled.

"I have a silver-colored journal." It's the color of his eyes. "I change them quite often, whatever makes me feel comfortable." I was playing with the hem of my shirt, tracing the tears of my jeans, looking everywhere around the room I've been in more times than I can count.

"Did Zeke seem happy about the promotion?" She asked.

"He was very happy. To the point, he accidentally broke the turtle mug we got, the one I showed you. He promised me to get another one, to remind us of our friendship." I smiled at the memory. "I'm insanely happy for him, and he knows that."

"That's really good to hear." She picked up a bowl of sweets, extending her arm to offer me some as I shook my head. There was a weird feeling being here, being in this room, talking to a complete stranger about my life. "Has there been any changes in your emotions over Draco?"

I looked up at her. "Is it terrible to still think over him? After he did something terrible, I don't know. I guess it's just the after-effect of caring about someone for so long that you start to apologize for their actions." Amelia knew about him. I couldn't even bring myself to say his name, I haven't in a long time.

"You never told me what he did that led to you being so distraught over him." She questioned as I bit down on my tongue. I couldn't possibly tell my own therapist that he killed my best friend, they'd tried to arrest him for murder. "Only tell me if you're comfortable."

"I don't like to speak of it, I believe it's better that way and I know you're going to say it's better to think it out loud or write it down but personally I believe it's better if it's left untouched. Some things are meant to be looked into, they're just better locked up and thrown away." I was lying to myself, and I knew that. I would deal with it if I could, but some part of me isn't interested anymore.

"How does he make you feel?" She asked me as I gave myself a second to fully process her question. How does he make me feel? I don't know. He made me feel alive as if I could breathe without the suffocation of the world. He made me feel like a kid who was handed a lollipop after a doctor's appointment. He made me happy — there were moments, but I didn't think anything was truly perfect.

"He makes me feel scared." I blinked. "Not of him, but of other people. I feel scared to feel the same about someone the way I felt about him. Trust. I don't feel like I could truly trust someone. Scared of trusting people. I'm scared of trusting people." I said it. There I said it. Trust issues. They run deeper than you know. You act out on things without realizing it. You question small little details, you question their tone and their behavior. You start noticing if they pick up their cup differently when they're upset, or if they're distraught or not by the smallest little thing.

"How does Zeke make you feel?" She asked me. Zeke. I met him in Joe's Bar, somewhere in Downtown Brooklyn. It was an awful night, I couldn't stay in that one-bedroom apartment anymore, I felt suffocated, so I went to the nearest bar to me. He offered me a drink, and that's where it all started.

"He makes me feel like someone I could rely on. Like a friend you could count on like you know they're going to be there no matter what. He made me feel safe." Safe? He made you feel safe? That's the stupidest thing I've spoken to, what is wrong with me?

"Evelyn," she said my name as my eyes blinked up at her, "you've been coming here for — you've been coming here for five years now. I could tell when you're feeling out of space. I feel your uncomfortability — "

"Do you like raspberry cupcakes?" I quickly asked her.

"What?" She grew confused.

"Raspberry cupcakes? Zeke and I are making some tonight, I'd love to drop some by here before you leave. Did I tell you he also purchased an automobile? It's not too huge but it's a start." I was talking, distracting, and changing the subject. "He loves baking. He's really good at it. I'm going to help him sprinkle the raspberry on top, I'd love to drop some off here, you know what? I'm already feeling better." I grabbed my bag as I quickly stood up. "Thank you."

"I'd love raspberry cupcakes, thank you." She smiled as I left the room. I have to leave. I have to start living and not just existing like an inanimate object. I need to start somewhere, I have to start somewhere. I need to fix something first.

It was hard sometimes getting in touch with my emotions. It was hard thinking about them, trying to solve the small details like an investigation of me. I hated it as much as I wanted to get over it. I was running away from it. I kept running away as if that was going to fix anything at all.

Questioning. I kept questioning myself sometimes if it was even worth it or not. I was confused — obviously. I had so many questions that had no answers. I have been living in New York City for the past five years, trying to find the peace that wasn't even here.

I haven't looked back at Scotland in a while. I don't know how Blaise is, or if Theo is alright, or even Bonnie. I don't know if Hermione knows about Amelia — I don't know if Harry made it out alive. I don't know anything. I woke up in the middle of the night, left without a note, and came to the place I've always wanted to visit.

They all probably hate me. I hope they do, it's much better. I hope they're fine. I hope everyone is okay. I hope they're okay. Everyone acted out, and this was my way of acting out.

It was around twelve in the morning. The street lights were flickering as the seconds passed. It was quite irritating. I had dried tears on my face, wearing a black leather jacket with a thin white shirt underneath. There were still some people on the street, laughing as their voices echoed through the empty streets. 

It was weird being here. There was an uncanny feeling. A feeling of uncertainty. Some things just felt awkward, out of place. The sound of my shoes clicking against the dry stone pavement as a neon sign was glowing bright two blocks away. 

Joe's Bar, it glowed. I continued walking towards it as my feet moved quickly. I just want to surround myself with people even though I feel lonely inside. I pushed open the rustic door of the bar, it was barely hinged on properly. The music was loud, it reminded me of the Slytherin parties that Blaise would throw along with Bonnie every weekend. 

People were cheering, beer was being chugged down as I closed the door behind me. The lights were dark, neon-colored flights patterned across the floor. A sphere-shaped disco ball was hanging from the ceiling as it twirled around. My eyes moved to the singular stool arrangements near the bar. 

I quickly sat down as the bartender approached me. "Can I have the strongest drink you have available with no ice," I said as he turned his eyes, "are you going to keep staring or serve me?"

"I'm going to need some identification, you look like you're a teenager, no drinks without any sort of identification." He turned around, throwing a white-colored dirty cloth over his shoulder. I groaned as I put my head against the table. 

"Bloody Americans," I muttered underneath my breath, turning my head as I looked up at the bartender, "Hey, sir, can you come back, I have your identity — I mean identification, sir?" 

"Look here Young Lady, I have people to serve unless you have sort of identification — "

"Obliviate," I cast the spell as he was stunned for a second," I smiled. "Now, hi there bartender, can I have that drink now?" The perks of being able to do wandless magic contain the ability to be able to make someone do what you want, especially muggles. 

"Yes of course," he said, turning around as he grabbed the bottle from the top shelf, pouring it into the glass as I watched him do as I said, "enjoy." He placed the drink in front of me. 

Taking a sip of it as I groaned, it was strong — not what I usually go for but it's the only thing that made me feel better. Licking my lips as I placed the glass down. I had packed everything up and came to New York. I'll gladly thank apparition points for that. 

Betrayed would be the best word to describe me, the best thing to describe every single thing I was feeling. I felt like I was used, mentally and physically. It felt like my heart was ripped out of my body and stepped on repeatedly. 

A nineteen-year-old sitting on a stool of a bar in fucking New York City, the best way to explain this, right?

"You look like you don't belong here," a manly voice interrupted my thoughts as I groaned, men, can they ever just mind their own damn business? 

"And you look like someone I don't want to talk to, makes the two of us," I said, not even turning around to look at him. Why can't these bloody Americans just mind their own damn business and leave people alone? 

"Well I'm a regular here, and I have never seen you here, as well as the fact you look not twenty one with a drink in your hand like to say I'm intrigued," he continued talking as I stared down at my drink, my nail polish chipped horribly as I looked away. 

I didn't answer. Maybe if I don't pay attention to him, he'll go away. Just stop talking. I don't care if I look like my age to you, can he just stop talking? I'd like to drown my sorrows alone. 

"Did you know Jack, when people don't talk in between a conversation of two, it most likely means they don't want to speak to you? Have you ever thought of that? Well if not, I'll tell you right now to please stop talking."

"Ahh, and she talks, finally," he said as my eyes turned to him. He pressed his lips to the glass as he sipped his drink. He had dark short hair, he was wearing a black shirt with black pants, his blazer thrown on the stool next to him. 

"Why don't you go bother your mother or something and leave me out of this, I don't care about what you have to say." I pressed the palm of my hand on my forehead, it felt like I was going to explode like my brain was about to pop out of my head any second. 

"I was talking to my mother thirty minutes ago, she's a good listener," he said, as I shut my eyes. I felt like I was going to completely blackout from the excruciating pain in my abdomen. The wound from the arrow hasn't healed. 

"Then continue talking to your mother Jack, I don't care at all, like you said she's a good listener, and let me tell you I'm not. Does that add up for you?" I looked at him, he had bright green eyes, just like mine. 

"I would, but I'd rather want the person to respond as well." He shrugged his shoulders. 

"Maybe she wants to be left alone as well, like me." I grabbed a napkin from underneath the table. 

"I don't expect someone from the grave to start talking to me. I mean you don't see a tombstone replying to you every day now do you?" He asked as my thoughts paused and I felt my consciousness coming back to me. 

"Oh," I said, "I'm sorry." 

He tilted his head as he looked at me. "What's your damage?" He asked me. Hilarious. 

"I have a list," I laughed, "death of a friend." 

His eyes brows narrowed at me. "I'm sorry." 

"It's alright," I said, "I'm sorry about your mother. I didn't mean to be rude earlier, I just wanted to be — "

"Left alone?" He asked. "I used to want that too, but then I found myself walking into this bar a year ago, wanting to be surrounded by strangers rather than be completely alone. I'm assuming you feel the same way?" 

Strange. "Something like that." I turned my head as I moved my drink around with the thin straw. "I'm Evelyn." 

"I'm Zeke." He offered his hand, "you can call me Jack if you like." He smiled as I smiled back, taking his hand. His hands were warm and welcoming. 

"Pretty name," I said, "it's better than Jack." He laughed as I finished the remaking of my drink. 

"Let me buy you your next drink, maybe we could have a less horrible time?" He offered as I thought to myself, maybe this wasn't a bad idea at all. 

"Another drink it is." 

"Ma'am?"

Looking back at that memory felt weird. It felt like yesterday. It doesn't even feel like five years have passed. Time flies by so quickly that you don't even realize it. Sometimes it's scary — terrifying even.

"Ma'am?"

I blinked. Turning my attention back to the lady handing me a paper at the desk of the hospital. "Sorry," I looked down, "is that the room number?" I asked her as she nodded her head.

"Her mother had you marked as one of the people that could visit her, she was in room three hundred and ninety-four, just walk straight down and make a left. Be sure to knock before you enter, a nurse might be helping her change." She gave me all the directions as I nodded my head.

"Thank you," I said before I turned around to walk down the hallway. The walls were painted a white — or off-white color. Marble glossy floors. Light blue arranged seats for people who are waiting to be seen by the staff.

This is my beginning to fix things.

I took a left as my eyes looked at the door numbers, three hundred and ninety , three hundred and ninety-one, three hundred and ninety-two, three hundred and ninety-three, and there was three hundred and ninety-four. 

I took a deep breath before I knocked on the door. Waiting for a response, "come in!" Twisting the knob of the door as I entered, there was a fresh smell of roses and daisies filling up the room. White sheets of the bed, small portraits of animals on the wall. Boxes of tissue, trays of food.

"Alia?" I said her name out loud as I entered the room.

"Evelyn?" Olive's mother looked at me, a smile on her face. She was hooked onto machines, tubes were going through her nose, needles in her arm. "Oh dear, it's so good to see you, it's been a while."

"It's good to see you too, Alia." I took a few steps forward. "I got you tulips, I know they're your favorite." I placed the bouquet beside her bed stand. She looked happy to me, her smile was radiating. It made me almost feel bad that I haven't been visiting her frequently.

The thing is, I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to take care of someone, I don't know how it feels for someone to actually stick around for once — especially a family member. My parents aren't my real wieners but they still had cared for me, not in the way every child desires it.

So I wasn't good at these things. I wasn't good at visiting, or knowing their favorite colors or flowers. I wasn't good at checking up, or asking if they were alright every day. I wasn't sure how to do it sometimes. When I did do it, I felt like I did too much and would immediately push everything away.

"Olive brought me white roses yesterday, she also got me chocolate fudge cups. Do you think you could ask the nurse to get me some more later? I'd love to eat another one." I took a seat beside her as she took my hand.

"I will most definitely ask the nurse for a couple more," I assured her. "How are you feeling here, Alia? Is everything comfortable? Do you need a bigger room? More pillows? Is it cold enough for you?" I showered her with questions as she let out a dry laugh, shaking her head.

"I'm perfectly fine, dear. I have everything I need. I have these pretty flowers, books, and these delicious fudge chocolate cups right here. Also, my beautiful daughters are visiting me, it's more than enough." My heart dropped at her last sentence. Daughter. My breath shuddered. My beautiful daughters. What?

I blinked at her as her hand came on my face, assuring me that whatever she had told me was true. Her hand squeezing mine as another form of assurance. "Thank you," the words left my lips, "thank you for being here, Alia. I'm sorry I didn't visit you sooner."

"Don't apologize, dear. You don't owe me anything." Her fingers caressed the strands of hair. "I was just thinking of you actually. How are things going with the boy? I've been wondering. The last time we spoke was about a year or two ago, I can't remember."

"With the boy? Nothing has been going on." I laughed. "We're just friends. Zeke and I are nothing more than friends — "

"Zeke is not the one I'm asking about." My eyes met hers. "I'm talking about the one that you're thinking about right now when I said not Zeke." I felt as if she was reading my thoughts for a minute.

"I'm sorry — there's no other boy besides Zeke. I quite don't do relationships, I find them pointless. Zeke is just special, he's nice, and understands me." I played with the ribbons of the bouquet.

"I already know that. You love Zeke." My eyes shot up quickly at her, her face tilting. "But you're not in love with Zeke."

"Love? We don't speak of that, Alia. I'm not a big fan of romance, although I only like it between the pages of the book, everything seems possible when you read it." I felt uncomfortable in my clothes, the office jeans were killing me, the button-up shirt was suffocating my throat.

"Everything is possible, nothing is truly impossible in this world. Those who think like that fear that they might have to change their opinions on what they're comfortable with."

"I don't disagree with you, Alia. I choose not to think of it differently. Even if I did love someone, I do not anymore. Love comes with sacrifices, and mine was costly," I mumbled.

"You've grown so much," she said, "make me a promise, take care of Olive when I'm gone."

"No — you'll be fine, Alia."

"Just promise me, dear."

I grew worried. "You're going to be fine, I pro — " We'll get you out, I promise. "You're going to be just fine, Alia."

"I'm dying," she said, "I'm not going to be fine, but it's fine." She smiled faintly.

"Alia?" I questioned. Her hands were squeezing my hands. "Alia?" I said her name once more. I was panicking now, my heart felt like it was pouncing. "Alia — please don't, Alia?"

She wasn't responding. Her eyes were shut. I couldn't tell. My hand squeezed her hands, for a second there was nothing but then there was a small glow. I haven't used magic in five years. I don't know what I'm doing.

I looked at the door as I looked back at her. The light was growing, it was magnifying as it coursed through her body, through her veins as I watched it happen.

There was a white faint glow, it was blood in her body. Just casually flowing through her blood, it was like a magical little cure. Siphoning. I don't know the extent of siphoning. I don't know what I was doing.

I felt her hands move over mine. For a minute I could myself connect with her — with her heart, there was nothing until I heard something.

A heartbeat.

"Alia?" I called out her name as I began to cry without even realizing it. Did I do this to her? I felt like my thoughts were racing as if there was a race and there was a flag being waved at the end of the road for the winner.

"Alia?" I said her name again as her eyes flashed open. She was breathing again as I slouched back. She was okay. She was alright. "Oh thank Merlin — thank god you're fine." I breathed in.

"What did you do — what happened?" She asked and for a second I wished it was easy to explain. "I don't understand — I don't."

"Do you feel fine? Can you see me? Are you breathing fine?" I questioned her over and over again. "Alia? Can you hear me?"

"I can," she muttered, "I can hear you, but I was dead."

"What?"

"I was dead," she repeated herself, "I felt it, but then I was back here again. I don't understand." I looked at her as she looked back at me. "I saw myself, I thought I died."

"You saw yourself?" I asked her as she nodded her head.

"I did." She looked down at herself. "I did see myself. I felt myself dying. I felt my soul leave my body. One minute I was looking at you and the other I was looking at my body, dead. There was this — this light? It was white, it was glowing. I thought I was dying. I thought I was dead."

"But you aren't." I looked at her. Did I do this?

The door opened as my head turned. The nurse walked in as she nodded her head at me. Her hands were filled with new sets of sheets and chocolate puddings. "I don't mean to intrude, but visiting times are over. I'd allow you to stay a couple more minutes but I really have to get this done."

"No," I said, "I mean no it's okay, you have to do your job. I'll be going." I quickly moved from the bed. Moving the bouquet away from the bed, and onto the table. "Take care, Alia." She looked at me, still confused and not speaking.

"Thank you," the nurse said quickly, "if you could just close the door on your way out and sign the log-out sheet." I left the room, signing the sheet as fast as I could.

I entered the hospital thinking I could make amends to my past ties, to make myself feel better. Instead, I was left more confused about what happened in the room just five minutes ago. It didn't make sense. At this point, I was starting to wonder if anything did make sense.

It was hard. Trying to move on. A lot of people classify it as something very easy. The number of times I've heard loads of different people say it so casually as if it doesn't have any meaning. Just move on, it's that easy, she said. Let it go, stop holding onto the past, she said again.

I cannot. I cannot let go of what made me who I am today. There is a difference between forgetting, moving on, and letting go. Forgetting what truly made me, to let go of the people I never got to say goodbye to. To move on from people I never truly left, I ran. I can't just let go six years of my life as if they meant nothing. 

Again. That's what Amelia had spoken to me. There was something that didn't make sense in her words. Ever since the incident I've put pieces together, her words, her looks, how she was to make sense of her death. She didn't even try and fight back, she just gave in.

The Amelia I know would've never gone down without a fight. She didn't even move an inch. Did she think of Hermione? I don't think anyone thinks of anyone when they're in pain. They only think of that pain. That pain controls them and their decisions, and every single emotion. Hermione, I wonder if she knows. She probably does.

Opening the door of my apartment as I walked in. There was a fresh smell of baked raspberry cupcakes filling up my nose. My eyes looked over to Zeke piping up frosting on them as a smile came up on my lips.

"You weren't kidding about baking those cupcakes," I said as he looked over at me. His smile was instant as he saw me. There was flour smudged on his cheeks, his black shirt covered in butter and residue of buttercream. I always had to remind him to wear an apron.

"I was wondering when you would come home," he mumbled quickly, his eyes fixed on the cupcakes and the piping bag. "I waited for you to come home but as you know, when it comes to baking, I have zero patience." He laughed as I placed the papers on the table.

I sat on the opposite side of the culinary counter. I never knew how to cook, Zeke usually did it all. I would simply sit here and watch him do it. Drinking hot chocolate out of the turtle mugs we purchased was our little thing. I liked his eyes, they were like a dark blue.

I didn't even realize I was smiling at him when he looked up at me. "Is there something on my face?" He asked as I nodded my head. "What is it?" He asked again as I let out a laugh.

"There are smears of flour all over your face," I muttered. Taking a paper towel as I walked over to him, taking a hold of his face as he looked down at me. "I don't mean to get corny, but thank you." I wiped his face slowly as his eyes slightly narrowed.

"Thank you?" He questioned. "For what?"

"Being here," I said. "And cooking these very delicious raspberry cupcakes because I would've gone down to the Magnolia bakery every weekend. The fact that it is a two-hour drive, it would've been exhausting." I placed my hands on his chest as his hands ran up my arms.

"You terribly suck at driving, almost crashed into the pole once. That you like to call Useless American Poles," he mimicked my voice. "Which also explains that it's probably not your first time behind a wheel."

"I actually have never driven a car before, until now," I realized as I looked away for a second, "I just never thought of it, cars just never appealed to me till I moved to the city that never sleeps."

"That's a positive comment you've said about New York in a while ." His hands came up on my face, caressing my cheeks slightly. I don't want to see your face because I'm so fucking selfish but not when it comes to you, please don't. "You seem troubled, are you alright?"

I wanted to get rid of the feeling in him. "I'm fine," I muttered, "if you're finally free, maybe we could just," I smiled as I pressed my lips to his. He took a step forward as my back hit against the counter of the culinary. His hands are still on my face as it goes under my neck.

"Definitely free for this," he mumbled as he kissed me again. My hair tangled up in the strands of his blonde — dark hair. Pulling on them as he groaned, pushing my hips against his. Tilting my head to deepen his touch as his fingers traced up my arm. His warm lips on mine as he's kissing me gently, there's no roughness or the eagerness of wanting to completely be consumed by that other person, it was just soft.

His hand came on my waist, giving it a gentle squeeze as there was a sound of glass breaking. We broke apart as I looked at him. "Did you hear that?" I asked him as he nodded his head.

"Yeah, I did," he said gently, his arms around me as he looked around the apartment. "Do you think it came from the outside corridor?"

"It could probably be Lily's cat? She always gets herself into something I've realized," I sighed as he looked back at me, pushing my hair back. "You want me to go check, and maybe we could continue this later?" I threw my arms around him as he pressed his lips to mine.

"It's a promise." I unlocked the door, stepping outside as the corridor hall light was perfectly fine until it started flickering. "Well that doesn't look good," I mumbled to myself as I looked around for broken glass — or if anything is broken around the floor. There was nothing. 

I stepped outside completely, knocking on Lily's door as she didn't answer. "Lily?" I called her name as I knocked once more. "Lily, are you alright? I heard something break, it was loud enough to hear till my apartment." She didn't answer as I knocked again, waiting for her to answer.

"If you don't open this door in the next minute, I'm going to break it down, possibly. " I waited on the door, knocking as I pressed my forehead onto the door, peaking through the little circle. "Lily!"

The door suddenly opened as I caught the ledge to make myself stand straight. "Oh for fucks sake, Evelyn. What's wrong?" She asked me as I looked down at her. Her hair was in a complete mess, her lipstick was smudged, she was wearing a lace bathrobe. "What?"

"I erm — I heard something break." I scratch my head to clear the awkwardness. "I thought something was wrong, and Zeke thought something was wrong. Well I mean not with you, it's just we heard something break really loudly."

She stared at me.

"What does that have to do with me?" She blinked.

"We thought something — I mean I thought something happened to you. Wait — I mean not to be personal, eh — is it Kaleb again?" I tried to hide my smile as she turned around before slapping my arm.

"Yes — I mean no , why would it be Kaleb?" She fixed her hair, wiping the corner of her mouth. "Why would you think that? We broke up a week ago. He isn't here." She pressed her lips together as I looked at her.

"Liar."

"What? No!"

"You're lying, I know it."

"I am not ."

" Liar! "

"Okay — okay fine, it's Kaleb."

"I'm always right," I chuckled.

"Fine — you're right, but nothing broke here? So no need to worry." She assured me as I tried to suppress my laughter, walking away from the door.

"Weird." I looked around. There was a weird feeling, something wasn't sitting right. Lily closed the door as I walked back into my apartment door, shaking my head at the fact that a nice moment was ruined by something that didn't even happen. "Zeke?" I called his name, taking out a raspberry cupcake from the tray.

My eyes searched for him around the room as I waited for his response. "Zeke?" I said louder than before. I moved away from the kitchen counter, a chill creeping up my back as I grabbed the sharpest knife next to me.

"Zeke this isn't funny," I said as I moved towards the middle room. "Zeke the joke is over now. You can come out, I'm starving and I'm really close to eating the cupcakes without you." It was raining all of a sudden, water pouring down the window as my heart began to race faster.

The lights began flickering for a split second as I froze completely in place. "Zeke, if you're doing this, I will never speak to you again. This isn't funny anymore. Did you know that Kaleb and Lily were having sex again? I just — well almost witnessed it."

He wasn't responding. I couldn't bring myself to love any further as there was a sudden whisper in my ear. I quickly turned around with the knife in my hand as there was nothing. "That's it, I'm going over to Olive's."

Taking a deep breath in as I turned around. There was a sudden thud on the floor as I looked down. Zeke. He was bleeding from his head. Oh my god. I dropped down as my hands took hold of his face. What?

There was a creak in the floorboard, my breath got stuck in my throat as I slowly looked up. Shiny black boots, made out of leather. Short black hair as she had on a dark long jacket, a smirk on her face.

"Pansy."

—