Atropos → george weasley

iii. the mysterious visitor

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three

the mysterious visitor

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The memories of isolation had softened over the years. Ottilie started to forget how suffocating it felt to have her parents fear her. The crushing pressure against her ribcage worsened now that her sister was frightened of her too.

She was held captive in a self-imposed prison for several days after the incident. Her mother brought her food and gave her uneasy smiles from the threshold of her bedroom. She offered half-hearted attempts to talk to Ottilie about what happened, but Ottilie knew that she didn't really want to talk about it.

What scared her most is that her mother's behavior meant that, at some level, she believed Adelaide's story: Ottilie was defending Adelaide against mean boys, and made one of the boy's face bleed without touching him.

If her mother chalked the story up to a misunderstanding, there would immediately be a discussion. Making a boy bleed from the mouth was extremely serious.

Making a boy bleed from the mouth with her mind? That was too much to even entertain.

She didn't know how her father reacted, or even if her mother ever brought it up to him. It was probably for the best that her dad didn't know, but how else was her mother going to explain why their older daughter had become a hermit?

The loneliness was almost unbearable. She tried to distract herself with books and her magic but it was hard not to think about that day.

The way that boy—Alex—had looked at her. She'd never seen someone so tormented. His body was shaking, and his shoulders were hunched like he truly thought she was about to kill him. He looked at her like she wasn't human.

What was worse was, in the moment, Ottilie had wanted that. She wanted to see him in pain. To see him regret what he'd done.

She'd told Adelaide that it had been an accident. While she obviously hadn't intentionally made him cough up blood, she'd also wished it upon him and did it to him with her powers. It frightened her. Maybe her parents were right to be scared. 

Maybe bad things were bound to happen when she was around.

The image of blood dripping from Alex's face haunted her. She dreamt about it. He'd emerge in her mind when she was reading.

She had to retrieve Walter from his new home on Ottilie's bookshelf. She hadn't slept with him in her bed since she was six, but it felt comforting to have him there now. He was familiar and safe, and resting her hand on his soft fur made her feel like she could take a full breath again.

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On Saturday morning, a week after the incident, Ottilie's mother woke her up early in the morning. The light from the hallway filtered into her room, accompanied by the tantalizing smell of breakfast and the faraway sound of a Kate Bush song

"Have breakfast with us, Lottie," her mother said softly, but sweetly. Ottilie sat up in bed to see Kanna smiling at her from the doorway. The request, Ottilie could sense, was genuine.

Ottilie had been out of her bedroom a few times since the prior Saturday, but not long enough to sit at the kitchen table and have a meal. A few times, she'd sincerely gone out to talk to her parents, but then she'd catch Adelaide's eye and her sister's smile would fade.