Chapter 1
It happened again. I can never tell when it's going to happen but all of a sudden I'm sitting in the corner of my dorm room and just slightly rocking back and forth. I think to myself if I squish my eyes tight enough I can squeeze out the images in my head. Them haunting me in my sleep wasn’t enough. Ever since I came to this bloody school my awake hours are tarnished and interrupted as well. If I can even classify these hours as me being awake. It feels more like I'm travelling through the motions of my day not fully cognisant of what is going on around me. Because that's just it, it is all going on around me, not to me, not with me, I'm just there. Forced to watch, observe, contemplate.
I tried the technique my brother used to do with me back home but it seems to worsen my state ever so slightly. Thinking about my brother seems to do this nowadays as well. Someone who used to be dear to me is now a stranger. Or maybe it would be better if he were a stranger. In truth it is quite the opposite. I can't seem to forget all the intricate details I know about him. I can’t seem to forget any of his expressions, especially not the one from that night. It's burned into my memory no matter how hard I try to forget. I really want to forget everything in moments like this. But in others, in times when I am spending too much time with my thoughts which seems to happen frequently. During these times I want anything but to forget. At least I don't want to forget him, sure there are things I wouldn't be opposed to having wiped from my memory. But I suppose your memories are who make you who you are. Maybe in hindsight that is just another reason to have these memories wiped, for I don't like who I am. Not so much as I don't like me as I don't know me.
Taking in sharp breaths I begin to come back to reality. Still spinning through thought after thought but that is my constant state as of late. I can't seem to remember a time where I wasn't like this. A hopeless depressed excuse of a human. But then again I don't have the best memory. Which might be a lie because I can remember academic trivial things just fine. I can remember things about other people just fine. Being in a constant state of contradiction with myself hasn’t gotten me very far. After every few thoughts trying to decide if what I was thinking was a lie or not. If it was a facade that I feel I need to put on even within my own mind. Maybe that's why I don't know myself, why I can't read myself.
I would like to be someone that is good at reading people but I think my insecurities override my analytical skills, therefore I see people in a light that is rather negatively exaggerated.
I'm pulled from my thoughts when I hear a trepid knock on the door, most likely my roommate, Evan. Nice enough guy, can’t say i've put in the most effort to get to know him but he tolerates me sitting in the corner of his friendship group so I don't look completely alone.
I'm not sure if i'm being truthful (here we go with the contradiction again) when I say I enjoy being alone because does anyone? I would be classified as an “introvert” but alone would be barren and it has some permanence to it. No, I don't think I'd ever like to be truly alone.
Evan walks into the room and I shoot up from where I was crouched. He greets me with a puzzling nod and walks straight to the closet. Me, I'm seemingly fine now, no sense of the episode that just occurred. I couldn’t have even a sliver of it left on my face because Evan would notice. I can’t say that I haven't been extra careful with hiding my emotions around him because I know how observant he is. But we read other people together, not each other.
Sometimes, not too frequently, mostly when he initiates it, Evan and I sit atop the astronomy tour and watch people go about their day. It seems to calm him down and I'm never opposed to sitting silently with company. In fact I often find myself forgetting that some people don't enjoy silence. It has gotten me into some awkward situations in the past.
I don't find myself inclined to ask why Evan is changing his clothes at 4.30pm but he answers the unasked questions anyway.
“Barty, Pandora and us are going to go to the common room for a round of cards,”
“ and you need to change your whole outfit for that..?” I say with just a twinge of mockery to my voice. I couldn’t help it if I tried . We all know Evan likes Barty just a little bit.
“We’ll leave at 10.” Is all he says in response. I decide to head to the bathroom to make sure I'm cleaned up before we go. I walk straight in pointedly avoiding the mirror at first. It's always a bit of a jumpscare looking in the mirror like I never quite recognize the person looking back at me. Of course I know it is my own reflection but I can't help feeling like I'm looking at a mere acquaintance. One that I may have forgotten their name. My appearance does vary whether I brush my curls out or if my hair is tucked behind my ears, although I can't help but feel there's more to it than that. I've always been one to analyse myself then shy away when it becomes too real but I have nearly, almost, barely I suppose- come to terms with the word ‘dysmorphia’. In what sense? I'm not sure I want to know so I just let it sit there. Hanging over me whenever I look in the mirror. I wish I could just never look in the mirror but I know if I had the option I wouldn't take it.
I follow two or so steps behind even as we walk to the common room. Upon entering and seeing everyone, Evan seems to grow two inches taller. I just know his face lit up at the sight of Barty wearing his tracksuit pants and a bit too tight t-shirt. Pandora is looking ravishing as per usual her blond hair in an effortless bun that reminds me more of my ballet days. They have already set out the cards ready for a game of tongues. One of their favourite games, I don't mind it either but i'm not particularly in the mood for cards. I nevertheless win each round.
“How come you always win Reg,” Barty exclaims, a tad overly frustrated for a friendly game of cards. I just shrug, I've always had a knack for games.
“I can sit out this round- “
“No” Pandora cuts me off, “Barty can suck it up and stop being a sore loser, anyhow we are gonna play cheat now”. An hour or so passes and we’ve played most of the card games we know. We were just in the middle of a considerably heated speed tournament when James Potter walked in. I feel my posture stiffen as I focus exclusively on the game infront of me. I will not be giving the guy who took my brother from me a second of my time.
James notices that we are in the middle of the room taking up the most space and immediately feels out of place. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other a couple of times in an uncharacteristically unconfident manner. He then walks past our table to the other side of the room and grabs a book off the shelf… pride and prejudice. Interesting. I myself am a sucker for Jane Austen or any period piece. I just know James wouldn’t give the book the respect it deserves.
We finished the speed tournament in which I let Barty win. I wouldn’t have done so if it was anyone else but he seemed worked up about it all and I know it wouldn’t have actually been about the card game. He was probably projecting.
We head down to dinner at 6.30. Most people are already seated along the long tables. We take our usual spot at the second table on the far end. I glance up from my food for just a moment and get a glimpse of my brother, Sirius, he's smiling wide in response to something that James said. I quickly return my gaze to my plate as I try to refrain from tearing up. Noticing after a few seconds the sharp pain in my mouth and realising I had been biting the inside of my cheek, hard. I don’t normally feel water in my eyes upon looking at my brother. That being said, I try my best to not look at him, ever. I remember my mothers advice that I should wiggle my toes rather than twiddling my fingers so as to not show people the emotion. I hate that this specific quote comes to mind so frequently. But it applies to my life more often than I'd like to admit. I find myself with a metal like taste in my mouth often and end up spitting out pools of blood.
The conversation my friends are having around me fades back in and I wonder how long I've been off within my mind. They are used to it by now. My glazed over face as I walk through the deepest corners of my mind in the most mundane normal situations. Hiding the unpleasantness of the trip from the expressions on my face. They seem to be talking about a sports team. I nod along and pretend to understand or care, then announce my departure before leaving the dining hall. I'm aware I don't need to be so formal but I assume it would feel weird not to be, so I continue with the manners my parents harshly instilled in me.