What Have You Done to Me? (Blaise Zabini/oc fanfiction)

Chapter Eighteen: You Understand, Right?

Warning! It gets very dark!

It's been about 3 months since my break up with Blaise. Since then, I've been much more quiet. I wasn't as hot-headed, sarcastic, or outspoken. I closed my mouth.

And with my break up with Blaise, Nat blamed me. And to be honest, it was my fault. It was all my fault. And some-how, I ended up with no one. I ended up with everyone I loved going away.

But I kept myself some-what sane, by saying things like "They haven't fully left you." "They'll come back." "You're not alone."

But how fake those words sounded. And I knew they were lies.

But the scars on my Dark Mark? No. They weren't lies. They were the horrible truth.

I trudged down to the dungeons, tears in my eyes but refusing to fall. I opened the door to my dorm and changed into my nightwear: Blaise's t-shirt and forest-green shorts.

And then, I looked at my mark. The stupid mark that I had to get. He said He would kill me. He said He would kill Nat. And Blaise. And I couldn't risk that. So I risked my life to prevent the deaths of the only people I've ever loved. So that they could be safe. And if that takes Blaise Zabini to break up with me, so be it. At least he'll be safe.

And if that takes Natasha Calderon to end all ties with me, then I'll somehow deal with it. At least she won't die.

But as I kept watching the stupid cursed mark, hatred grew. Hatred and sadness. A numb void of those two emotions. And for the first time in my entire existence, I wanted to hurl myself off the Astronomy Tower.

I wanted to die.

Besides, who was to care?

And before I could process what I was doing, a blade was in my hand and I dug it into my left forearm. Where the skull started. And it felt good.

It felt good as I re-opened my stupid scars and dug my blade all the way to my wrists, my once flawless skin flawed.

I dragged it down and watched as my own dark red blood covered the bloody tattoo. And I just suddenly wanted to say: "See? I'm not cold-blooded. I actually have feelings and a heart. I'm not soulless."

But instead, I lifted the blade and drew another line down the tattoo. The whole stull was covered now.

It was a sacrifice. A stupid sacrifice but a sacrifice nonetheless. And now, I'm not sure if I could live without seeing Nat and Blaise again.

So, I removed the blade and drew a thick line down my arm again, cutting the snake in half.

Then I cried. I dragged myself to the bathroom and I cried, holding a bloody blade. I was getting light-headed, I knew. But I had to.

I couldn't live like this anymore.

I couldn't live like I was no one.

I couldn't live taking sleeping pills just to sleep, crying as I watched the fire at 3:00 A.M in the morning, having dark circles under my eyes, my hair bleach-white, and me cutting myself.

And plus. My magic was getting weaker. I knew. My once-golden hair was now a startling white. It was scary. So, I kept it hidden under a charm. A simple charm, really.

It also hid my scars.

So, I made up my mind. And I knew what people would say. Actually... I didn't. People would freak out, yes, but maybe-just maybe- Nat and Blaise would be safe. I would be gone after all.

So, I took the blade and dug it into my wrists. I laid my head against the bathroom wall and silently cried as my dark-red blood flowed out of my cut wrists.