-the witching hour

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𝓔lora faced her typewriter, smudges of isolation dropping in aspects of ink onto the whitened canvas

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𝓔lora faced her typewriter, smudges of isolation dropping in aspects of ink onto the whitened canvas. She was jealous, of the emptiness it held. It had so much capability, but the moment the drop of darkness spread along each crack it broke more and more, until it was no longer held together, it was nothing but slowly being consumed by the darkness in which Elora had full control, of each unhappy memory, each negative thought. It was under her control.

Wake up

Wake up

Wake up.

"We are going clubbing" Sirius interrupted her mind, bursting into the room in a suit and a smoke placed by the corner of his mouth. She wanted to rip it from his hold, smoke it until her lungs consumed each bit of falling energy and slowly killed her, just the way her mind was killing her.

"Okay" She responded quietly, finishing off her artwork.

.

"I was hoping you'd come" Spoke the dark haired boy, his locks falling in front of his slimmed face, soon to be pushed back with his hand. "Clubbing?" She repeated as though the words were forgein on the taste of her tongue.

"Clubbing" He responded, looking down at her clothes which were sprawled across the bed room. Her attire had been Regulus' wardrobe, wearing each and everything he owned. "Okay" She said, watching him leave the room and carefully close the door behind him.

She felt weird, the way her life had shaped itself. When she was younger she would pray for something better, something more enjoyable then sharing a house with her mother who wanted to make her perfect and her father who held a distate for her. She would ask for anything but that. But was this better? No, she answered for herself, her life and every moment she breathed in the oxygen to keep her alive she felt miserable. Would she ever be happy again?

The answer was likely, no.

..⃗.🕊•̩̩͙⁺゜

She didn't care what she wore, her outfit being one of the dresses she had fished out of her bag. The dress made her laugh, why would Regulus have packed such clothing for their trip away? She guessed she would never know.

The black dress hung to her thighs and her tiny waist, but she didn't care. About how her hair or face looked, she didn't want to be around anyone but being around herself only allowed the darkness to slowly creep in until there was nothing left.

..⃗.🕊•̩̩͙⁺゜

"Elora" James cheered, greeting her as the blonde and Sirius walked into the packed club, people dancing and singing. Did they know she was hurting? Were they hurting? Most likely not, they were living out their adolescence with alcohol and strangers mouths lingering on their lips. She wanted to be them, to be care free, an open mind and soul.

𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗮, regulus black (book one)Where stories live. Discover now