In The Eyes of Us [DRACO MALFOY]

III

MATURE CONTENT: Drugs, Blood, Death

November 1997

Annika.

Itsy bitsy spider
went up the water spout.
Down came the rain,
and washed the spider out

Huh? I don't remember the lyrics after this.

Down came the rain,
and washed the spider out

My memory is hazy. How did I get here? I don't remember. How long have I here? How am I going to get out of here? However, it feels normal in some way.

Ignoring the physical tremors and the constant threat of death hanging over me—

I might die here

But the prospect of death holds no allure. There's a drive within me, a desire to seize control of the situation no matter the cost.

Though the waters may be turbulent, and you might be in the verge of drowning, always refuse to succumb. Before you're  held by the tide, you need they meet their death, on your hands.

Because if not then you've failed and I have too.

Those were Maami's words, I always contradicted her words because my failure was worth if I could see her loose but now we share the same loss.

The dorm is walls still sported their glitters and a pink with dragons and butterflies. Up above, the wind chime swayed gently, its soothing melody providing a welcome distraction from the chaos swirling.

It's funny, I used to wonder why Parkinson was so attached to this place, and now, in the midst of everything, I can see the strange appeal.

Honestly, I never wanted to leave this place either. Despite all the arguments, there was something oddly genuine about the moments we shared here. It's like no matter how fake everything else seemed, when we were in this space, we were just us.

You were a stupid kid.

As I finally reached the end of my pill stash, reality crashed down around me like a tidal wave. Opening my eyes fully would mean confronting not just the pounding hangover, but also the heavy burden of sobriety. Sobriety felt like a distant memory, and facing its stark reality now was overwhelming.

Pills had always provided a comforting distance, a buffer from the harshness of the world. In their numbing embrace, everything seemed more manageable, more bearable. I had always preferred the quiet, the muted colors of a dulled existence.