Aurora liked to think of her life as one that, unlike seemingly everybody else nowadays, she did not want to re-live.
Sometimes, when she's lying awake at night, she likes to think that the fates, or God or whoever it was that planned out peoples li...
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Aurora Black woke up with a start. Her face was sticky with sweat, and the thin cotton of her nightgown stuck to her body like a baby to it's mother; her hair was a knotted mess of raven, sticking to her forehead uncomfortably. She brought her hand up to her mouth, stifling a sob, before reaching over to her nightstand and shakily bringing a glass of water to her trembling lips. Everything hurt. Every bone ached, her skin felt too tight, like she was trapped, and her heart thumbed in her chest - her lungs burned and her head throbbed, her fingers twitched and her legs spasmed. It hurt - but Aurora was used to the pain, so she slammed the glass back on the table and slid out of bed, grasping onto the bed posts to keep herself upright.
She hobbled awkwardly down the hallway, feeling her way through to the bathroom. Flicking the tap on, Aurora dowsed her face in the cool water; the liquid trickled down her cheeks, bending and curving with the contours of her face - it was peaceful to watch, and momentarily distracted Aurora from the task at hand: finding her cigarettes.
She knew where she was - the hazelnut brown walls were a tell-tale sign, a particular shade of brown that she almost always associated with Lupin cottage. There was no doubt in mind that Remus had also confiscated her cigarettes, he was always prattling on about how they were bad for her health and that they would kill her eventually. Aurora had to refrain from rolling her eyes - oblivious bastard.
The kitchen was bare without the elder mans presence. Pots and pans hung haphazardly over the stove, rusted copper gleaming in the moonlight, and about twenty empty biscuit tins were stacked near the counter - filled with anything but biscuits. A packet of chocolate digestives was left open near the fridge.
No sign of her cigarettes, though.
She supposed that he wouldn't leave them on the counter top, and that he probably had some highly secretive underground cellar where he stuffed forbidden items - like he did with his chocolate.
"Fucking bastard-" She whispered to herself, pulling a chair out and collapsing into it. "had to take me' fucking fags...really fancied one too..."
The shadows flickered, and Aurora's eyes scanned the room once more. There didn't appear to be anybody there, which in itself was a relief. If she was brought back here after the, well, after the incident, than her father was probably here too. She couldn't deal with his bullshit excuses right than, or his inability to not critic her self destructive habits. It was exhausting.
"Oh I fucking give up...." She went to stand, but her legs gave out and she almost fell face first onto the wooden floor. "Just fucking great..."
Aurora sat back down again, deciding that she couldn't be bothered to make the journey back to the guest bedroom. She ran her clammy hand over her face, sighing deeply. Out of all the nights she could of been tortured, it had been that one; in the middle of nowhere, with a sleeping baby clinging to her chest. She had actually been having a good time too, if you ignore the confrontation she had had with her father.
