ᴜɴᴅᴏɴᴇ | ᴅ.ᴍ

𝐓𝐖𝐎

"YOU don't know what you're talking about Malfoy, so I suggest you stop talking." I felt anger rush through my body completely like a dose of medicine trying to relieve the pain. He took a step further.

"Oh yeah? How do you plan on doing that Young?" He tilted his head walking closer. "We both know what actually happened." He grew closer and closer.

"You don't know what happened so don't act as you do. I don't know where you heard our conversation from, but I can assure you, that you know nothing so if you're done being an areshole, I'm going to bed."

I turned around quickly as I walked up the stairs of the girls' dormitory. I opened the door of my room I pressed my back against it, slowly sliding down as I felt the back of my shirt rise, touching against the cold door.

I buried my face into my hands as I counted in my head by the table of two.

Two...

Four...

Six...

It was the only thing that was able to direct my mind in a state of calmness before I revolted and did something out of anger that I would regret later. I wasn't even trying to cry, yet my cheeks were dampened with tears, as I pressed my palms against my eyes gently rubbing them. I kept sniffling as I cried, I could feel my forehead's temperature rising by the second. This is the part I hated about me being upset, my body would automatically start heating up and go into a state of sickness.

Eight...

Ten...

Twelve...

Since a young age, my body has taken a huge toll on stress. I was my own parent growing up, I often taught myself my own homework during elementary when I needed help, but my mother was too busy helping my siblings. My dad was non-existent in my life ever since he cheated on my mother and married someone else, who was the definition of every ruthless scary stepmother you can find in an urban dictionary.

I think the hardest part about all of it was when my mom befriended my stepmother and pretended to be her best friend for ten years, putting a huge strain on her children, especially me. I felt my feelings played with me because seeing her being so friendly made me think that she was the good one, so I trusted her with a secret.

I told her a secret. I opened up for the first time in my life, but she blocked me out and spilled it all on my mother as revenge for a fight between them to taunt her. But it hurt more than I expected it would.

I have hated her ever since. I have never trusted anyone after that with my feelings ever since that incident. I was scared of what people would do if they know how weak I was on the inside, how hurt I was, how much pain I was in. I was scared that they'd use my pain for their advantage and then step on me after. My dad was the definition of a person who did not deserve to have kids, he was rarely there for them.