*TRIGGER WARNING*
THIS STORY CONTAINS A LOT OF DEPRESSION, VIOLENCE, SELF HARM, AND OTHER THINGS THAT CAN MAKE ONE UNCOMFORTABLE, SO IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TOWARDS THESE TOPICS THEN I STRONGLY RECOMMEND NOT READING THIS STORY!
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It was time for Mom's funeral. I got out of bed and got ready, putting on my new black dress and shoes (In the media section above)(I didn't have any dresses or shoes to wear).
The ceremony was long and sad. Each second making me want to cry more and more. Dad was still angry and would only talk to me when absolutely necessary. This made me feel even more helpless as most people attending the funeral didn't notice me struggling to keep my all of my tears in. All except one man. I didn't know him very well but Mom said that he was one of the professors at Hogwarts, the wizarding school.
"It is okay to cry you know. You don't have to let your feelings bottle up inside like this. It'll only hurt more." he said gently while patting my shoulder lightly. I let a couple tears slip out of my eyes as I watched my mother being lowered into the ground. Soon, there was a river of tears streaming down my face as I tried to control my breathing.
"There, there... just let it all out and things will be okay." he said hugging me now. I clutched lightly onto his cloak trying not to wrinkle it.
A few hours later, I was in the place where we were having the memorial and I sat next to the professor.
"I'm sorry sir, but what is your name?" I asked quietly.
"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am a professor at Hogwarts. Your mother was a dear friend of mine and I am terribly sorry for your loss, for I too understand how unbearable it is to lose a dear loved one." he smiled comfortingly in response.
"It is good to finally meet you sir. My mum talked fondly of you a lot.''
"Oh? That's good to hear." Dumbledore sighed happily.
~After the funeral~
It has been about two months since mom died and each day dad has been getting worse and worse. He developed a drinking problem right around last month and I'm starting to get worried.
One day, dad came into my room.
"Get up." is all he said and afraid of what would happen if I disobeyed, I got up. What happened next went by so fast that I didn't even realize what was going on until I was on the floor. My breathing quickened as a kick made contact with my stomach. I was then picked up by my collar and thrown into my mirrored closet on the other side of the room.
"Dad! Please!... Stop!" I gasped trying to catch my breath.
"NO! IT'S YOUR FAULT (F/N)!... IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU, WERE THE ONE WHO DIDN'T SAVE HER! YOU, WERE THE ONE WHO JUST SAT THERE, AND WATCHED!... SO IN MY OPINION, YOU'RE GETTING WHAT YOU DESERVE!" he screamed, punching or kicking me at every pause.
"I am only six years old! How could I?!" I yelled back.
"Oh you will regret talking back to me brat.'' he spat throwing me against the wall. This beating went on for another 15 minutes and I was left on my bedroom floor, bleeding.
"And clean up the blood before I get up tomorrow understand?" he growled.
"...Y-yes." I gasped trying not to get him angry. Then everything went black.
(This is sort of what your bedroom looks like btw except for there is a mirrored closet on the other side)
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When I woke up again it was still dark so I decided to get a mop and broom to clean up all of the blood and glass. I first swept and mopped and then, I went to go find the first aid kit in my bathroom. I tried to be quiet while walking so that I don't wake up dad but he was probably in an alcohol coma right now. Mum taught me how to use a Muggle first aid kit because Dad didn't like it when we used magic and he still doesn't even if it is accident. It creeps him out.
As I dabbed the small cotton of peroxide on my wounds I couldn't help but feel so alone... it was like being around a Dementor for every waking moment. This is how I was left through the rest of the night.
The next day I woke to sunlight in my face. It was warm, but not in the slightest way comforting. I crept downstairs and checked to see if Dad was still sleeping, he was. I know that he usually gets angry if I don't make him breakfast first thing in the morning.
After I made Dad breakfast, the day progressed on and with dad now at work, I could clean as much as I could and finally have a little rest.
Things went by pretty smoothly as the day went on. However, it was too good to last. At around three o'clock Dad burst in the house fuming with rage and ferocity.
"W-welcome back Dad...have a g-good day?" I asked cautiously. He just started to walk towards me and i stepped back hoping he wasn't going to do what I thought he was. Unfortunately my guess was correct and he kicked me to the floor. I felt a solitary tear run down my face as I coughed up some blood.
"I got fucking fired you piece of shit. How can I possibly have a good day?" he growled picking me up by the hair. Before I knew it he was dragging me toward the backyard.
I yelped in pain as he threw me into the small shed we had outside, closing the door and locking me in.
"Dad! No! Please! Stop! Don't leave me here!" I yelled pounding on the door with my small (s/c) fists. He however, just laughed and walked away hearing me scream some more. This moment made me wish even more that we didn't choose a house in the middle of the country.
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Well that's it for this chapter! I'm starting to think that there is going to be a lot of bad before we get to the good but we'll see (I'm making this up as I go along btw sorry).
I hope you all enjoyed the chapter somewhat I don't really know why you would but just in case. Have a nice day/night everyone! :)
