Post by Morgan Pendragon on Jun 11, 2008 12:37:08 GMT -5
A white-and-blue-blur streaked through the sky over the quidditch grounds. It lapped the pitch a few times, then moved into a series of visually stunning and complex maneuvers. Finally, nearing a crescendo of aggitated activity, it plunged itself straight at the ground, pulling out of the dive only just in time. As it slowed, the blur resolved into the figure of Morgan Pendragon, Prefect and Quidditch Captain of Ravenclaw.
The toes of her thick, black boots skimmed blades of fresh, green grass she couldn't feel. Yet, she pulled herself higher again with her Firebolt, as though the increase in altitude would improve her mood. Normally, the Welsh girl was the cheerful type, but lately she'd been feeling quite morose. No, morose didn't quite cover it. She had never felt worse; it was as though there was a ragged, gapping hole right through the very core of her. She had never known pain like this, not even Gwyn's sectumsempra had caused such anguish and Morgan didn't know who to ask for help. She was usually the one that people went to for advice.
How could I have been so blind, she asked herself for exactly the sixth time today, and for the fifth time, she answered herself You couldn't have known. Ashelle had a boyfriend, and it's not like Malachy was showing any symptoms of cheating on you. Most likely it was a one-time accident like he claims. The first time she asked herself this question today, she'd only groaned, rolled over and tried to get back to sleep. She shook the thoughts from her head, and dove again. However, she knew it was futile before she started.
She was too chicken to kill herself this way.
As she predicted, she turned at the last moment. She sighed and climbed again, strugling not to cry out in frustration. For some reason, the lyrics of every love song she'd ever heard had decided to make camp in her head, and their clamor for her attention was annoying. "Forgive him!" they cried, "Forgive him and love him!" But she couldn't do that. She couldn't love someone she didn't trust. And Malachy had proved that he couldn't be trusted.
This was her third attempted suicide since she'd discovered Malachy and Ashelle kissing. She had been unable to make herself jump off the astronomy tower too. Not to mention that when she had slipped, trying to crawl back inside the window she'd climbed out of, Mondlied had saved her. She'd also failed at slitting her wrists, practically shouting EPISKEY at the slashes she'd inflicted on her arms. And, of course, any poisons she could make involved ingredients students were not allowed to have, or else would have been too easy for the nurse to take care of. How could she be so weak? It probably wouldn't hurt that much, or at least, not for long. At any rate, it couldn't possibly hurt as much as the ragged hole in her chest. She plunged toward the ground again, with new determination.
This time, it would be a success, she knew it. She started fifty feet in the air, and this time she was moving much to fast. The ground was moving nearer at an alarming and exhilarating rate. Soon, very soon, she would not be troubled by such silly things like love or lycans. The oblivion would be sheer bliss after her tortured existence for the past few weeks. Ten feet to go. Morgan swallowed hard and shut her eyes, though the wind was still whistling past her ears, reminding her of exactly how fast she was going.
CRACK!
There was a terrible sound of snapping, though whether it was of wood or bone was not known by Morgan, who was lying in broken agony. Good. The pain she now felt on the outside matched the terrible torture inside. As she passed out from the pain, she was smiling, perhaps now she could find some peace.
[/size][/color]The toes of her thick, black boots skimmed blades of fresh, green grass she couldn't feel. Yet, she pulled herself higher again with her Firebolt, as though the increase in altitude would improve her mood. Normally, the Welsh girl was the cheerful type, but lately she'd been feeling quite morose. No, morose didn't quite cover it. She had never felt worse; it was as though there was a ragged, gapping hole right through the very core of her. She had never known pain like this, not even Gwyn's sectumsempra had caused such anguish and Morgan didn't know who to ask for help. She was usually the one that people went to for advice.
How could I have been so blind, she asked herself for exactly the sixth time today, and for the fifth time, she answered herself You couldn't have known. Ashelle had a boyfriend, and it's not like Malachy was showing any symptoms of cheating on you. Most likely it was a one-time accident like he claims. The first time she asked herself this question today, she'd only groaned, rolled over and tried to get back to sleep. She shook the thoughts from her head, and dove again. However, she knew it was futile before she started.
She was too chicken to kill herself this way.
As she predicted, she turned at the last moment. She sighed and climbed again, strugling not to cry out in frustration. For some reason, the lyrics of every love song she'd ever heard had decided to make camp in her head, and their clamor for her attention was annoying. "Forgive him!" they cried, "Forgive him and love him!" But she couldn't do that. She couldn't love someone she didn't trust. And Malachy had proved that he couldn't be trusted.
This was her third attempted suicide since she'd discovered Malachy and Ashelle kissing. She had been unable to make herself jump off the astronomy tower too. Not to mention that when she had slipped, trying to crawl back inside the window she'd climbed out of, Mondlied had saved her. She'd also failed at slitting her wrists, practically shouting EPISKEY at the slashes she'd inflicted on her arms. And, of course, any poisons she could make involved ingredients students were not allowed to have, or else would have been too easy for the nurse to take care of. How could she be so weak? It probably wouldn't hurt that much, or at least, not for long. At any rate, it couldn't possibly hurt as much as the ragged hole in her chest. She plunged toward the ground again, with new determination.
This time, it would be a success, she knew it. She started fifty feet in the air, and this time she was moving much to fast. The ground was moving nearer at an alarming and exhilarating rate. Soon, very soon, she would not be troubled by such silly things like love or lycans. The oblivion would be sheer bliss after her tortured existence for the past few weeks. Ten feet to go. Morgan swallowed hard and shut her eyes, though the wind was still whistling past her ears, reminding her of exactly how fast she was going.
CRACK!
There was a terrible sound of snapping, though whether it was of wood or bone was not known by Morgan, who was lying in broken agony. Good. The pain she now felt on the outside matched the terrible torture inside. As she passed out from the pain, she was smiling, perhaps now she could find some peace.