CHAPTER FOUR
TRAPPED IN A GLASS JAR
TIME WAS RUNNING OUT of her hands. November drawing nearer with each passing day as Wren's grades sank lower and lower. She was sure she wasn't going to pass this year, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the two people she incased inside her heart, and the world she could make better for them. The girl was swallowed up in the guilt of not knowing how to help. Not knowing how to take down the Dark Lord because in reality her flames where just in the size of one seventeen year old girl, and what could that do? And, really, the fact that she might not be able to do this by herself angered her like no other. Wren was so used to suffering in silence, and maybe, she had saved someone else from drowning (she doubted she even did that because she knew you where the only one who could help pull yourself out of the choppy water) but she'd never tried to help herself.
Wren Stonem was a selfless girl hidden by selfish words.
But none of those facts burned out her stubbornness because if there was one thing about Wren Stonem that never changed, it was the determination that entangled her lungs and blood. That's why, on the last September day of the year 1978, Wren found herself hidden in the forbidden section of the library in the middle of the night. Doing her best to quieten any noise, but honestly the girl didn't really care if she was caught. She just didn't want to have to explain why she was there. Running her nimble fingertips over the rough, old book covers, the girl whispered out the titles that she smoothed over. But, unfortunately, nothing pricked her mind that could seem even remotely useful. As always, Wren wanted to let out a scream, but nothing came out. She only ran her paled hands over her knotted, brunette hair as she let out a heavy sigh.
The pale eyed girl probably should've tried to quieter her movements, but emotion—— as always—— was getting to her. As much as she hated to admit it, the girl had always followed her heart. Her head had always been there sure, but passion and opinions where always the things that drove her to the actions she made. It was like, some part of her had been bottled up at a young age. As if, she had kept some small piece of her soul and stuck it into a glass jar somewhere deep inside the forest of her body, and now, it was like she just could not find it. And that small part of her, was like, her sense. Her mind, what used to make Wren the angry girl with nothing but hate. But, it was like, when she bottled up that part of her, she got rid of a small fragment of that hate (but also love) inside her, and now that empty space was just a void. And now, the female was trying to fill it with whatever she could, because she wouldn't feel complete without that space filled up.
When she looked back though, the limited time's she had spent with Regulus Black. . .she hadn't felt that aching void. It had just been her, her fire cooled down and a smile able to finally show on her toughened skin.
But, she could never cling on that feeling for long. Something always untwined her, made her shatter until she was nothing. But she was no classic, broken mirror, because it was not the mirror that was broken, but her reflection. And all of that feeling, and all of this emptiness still couldn't help her decide if she wanted to get that piece of her back, if it needed to come back. Wren never really knew, she just. . .went on. . .as if she wasn't the most confused witch that walked and floated through the halls of Hogwarts. The shallow eyed girl had gotten so caught up in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed she had frozen all movements, as if she was no longer in her body.
She hadn't even noticed when the Librarian had rounded the corner towards her. Wren couldn't even hear the woman's words, couldn't even see her angry glare. Because it was like she wasn't even there. It was like all of her soul had entered that glass jar when she thought about it, and now she was stuck. She couldn't move, couldn't function. Had she just trapped her soul all away? What was she doing? Was her soul split in two? What was that woman saying? Wren could barely hear the thoughts and questions that ate away at her decaying (yet, alive looking) skin.
Somehow, Wren had made her way to the entrance of the Hospital Wing, the frantic looking Librarian holding her up as she just slouched. Nothing was there, nothing was any where. She was nothing. It was like she was already a ghost that haunted Hogwarts, already gone. Maybe, the void had swallowed her up. "I- I don't, just let me- let me recollect myself. . ." Wren mumbled, trying to make the older woman understand. She just needed a moment, a moment to bring her back down to reality. But, somehow, the girl had made it into Madame Pomfrey's care, already smothered inside a thin mattress bed.
Wren had no concept of time, but slowly, she was falling back down into her soul. She was awaiting the impact, her body flinching after the trepidation finally became real fear, but no pain hit her. Only her senses came back to her.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Madam Pomfrey hastily spoke, taking a light and shining it at her emerald pupils. Wren winced, before pushing the light away and sitting back up onto the plushed up pillows.
"I'm fine," Wren hastily spoke, completely ignoring the woman's comment. Before she could make her way off the bed, the woman gently placed her hands on the top of the girl's, pushing her back down into the welcoming, warm bed. Though, a sense of fight still coursed through Wren's veins, as she definitely did not want to stay in the brutally quiet hospital wing. Especially not at night, where only her thoughts accompanied her. She had been trying to ignore her thoughts since the letter.
"You're a little shaken up, I'm going to give you something to help you sleep, and in the morning we'll see how you feel. I assume you'll be having a talk with the Headmaster, though, for being in that section of the library," the woman explained as she gathered different items from the counter, before finally finding a small, brown colored, glass bottle. Wren rolled her eyes, before taking the bottle and downing it in one gulp (she desperately needed the sleep) and soon enough a bitter taste was left in her mouth of expired raspberries and hot, midsummer days. Finally, the girl was welcomed with the peace of mind she had been craving.
She was met with the smell of waves and sand and home. Salt and family memories flooding into the pores of her cracked skin, as she brought a hand to cover her eyes from the sea droplets that mercilessly attacked at her features. She was in a familiar area, with a beach home all the way ahead of her, it was almost like she could reach it, but it was only so far off. And somehow, the girl heard the echoing of crying. It sent chills up her frame, it almost sounded like her.
She followed it.
Her body was being filled with cotton, her legs sinking into the sand, but somehow, her body was trying to force her to that crying. It was begging for her to make it, but the cotton was too choking, her body too heavy and her mind too tired. She sank into the sand, but never reached any surface. She just kept sinking, and sinking, and sinking, the echoes of screams growing farther, but louder with each second. Wren wanted to scream, but nothing came out.
Everything was just a blanket of silence that seemed to drown and burn at her skin.
Suddenly, Wren made it through the sand and dropped to a stone floor, breaths heaving through her as she felt her lungs collapsing in herself. Shadows clouded her, making it difficult to see anything, only the sound of ocean waves crashing beside her consuming her. "Hello?!" The girl yelled, but nothing came out. It was as if she could speak, but nothing was there to allow any noise to actually come out.
She couldn't tell if this was a dream or not. And that was the tricky thing about dreams, they feel so real when you're in them.
Suddenly, the shadows creeped back up the obsedion walls, and the girl was met with mirrors facing mirrors. It was endless, her reflection multiplying by the minute, but it was like that wasn't her.
"This isn't real." Still no sound came out. The reflections mimicked her movements, almost laughing as if they knew everything they could possibly know, and this was just their entertainment. Wren was collapsing, or dying —— something —— because this couldn't be. . .real. This was just her mind, she was just going insane. The fire was starting to burn again. And, her reflections began to turn red, their eyes pouring out blood, but it looked almost. . .beautiful. It was as if it was meant to be that way, as if their tears were made to be mixed with blood, as if that red tint on their skin was made to be red.
And, instead of crying or screaming this time when the fire finally consumed her, Wren Stonem allowed herself to breathe. She let herself imagine the water wrapping around her, incasing her, but she wasn't drowning, she was cooling down. She was the sun, and whoever the sea was, they anchored her. They let her finally breathe. And finally, a green flash, and
Wren woke up.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
this will make sense soon. 😏