Catharsis [Tom Riddle]

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Once.

    Twice.

    Three times she turned the hourglass on Tom's desk over.

    Three hours since he had left.

     The blanket and pillow he had given her remained untouched as she stared at the door, her wand gripped tightly in her hands. Slowly, she got to her feet.

She felt like an intruder in her own body. Her movements didn't seem to belong to her as she trudged over to the door.

The music outside had come to a halt a while back and as she pressed her ear to the door, all seemed quiet. With trembling fingers, she cracked the door open, her wand still clutched in her firm grip as she peeked outside.

The hallway was empty and no sounds came from the common room. It appeared the party had finally come to an end. Her feet carried her down the hall, tip-toeing as she descended out of the boys' dorms.

When she reached Lestrange's room, she paused outside it for a moment and tried to see if she could hear anything from within.

Silence.

Silence scared her.

Silence meant that there was something that needed to be hidden from.

An overwhelming feeling of nausea hit her as she stood outside that door. The walls suddenly began to feel as though they were closing in on her. She knew she had to get out of the bloody dungeons.

So she ran.

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her until she made it out of the hallway, out of the common room, and into the castle's corridor, nearly stumbling over her own feet twice. The hallways were quiet, the only sound echoing through them was the dragging of her own feet across the stone floors. She couldn't control her body even if she wanted to-- it was moving on its own accord, taking her further and further from Slytherin without any account of where to go.

The hall felt stuffy and her lungs longed for fresh air, so she scrambled towards the castle's exit, bolting outside into the cool night.

The cold was welcome on her skin and for a moment, she was able to steady herself and take in a deep breath, shutting her eyes as she tried to quell the violent shaking of her own body.

Then, she threw up.

A mixture of alcohol and anxiety left her mouth as she heaved onto the grass, her throat suddenly overrun with a burning sensation that left her insides feeling raw. She couldn't shake the feeling of disgust that washed over her as she doubled over the ground, her breathing choppy as her eyes brimmed with tears once more.

And suddenly, nothing.

She felt nothing.

No pain, no fear, no anger, no remorse, no nothing.

Numb. She just felt numb.

Slowly, she rose back up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her bloodshot eyes staring blankly in front of her as her feet dragged her back towards Ravenclaw Tower. She didn't know who was controlling her body, but it wasn't her. It was as though she were a marionette being pulled forward by a puppeteer's strings, her actions nothing more than jerking reactions to a force beyond her control.

She imagined that this was what it felt like to be a ghost-- floating aimlessly through the halls, existing somewhere between life and death-- an outsider to time, itself.

Next thing she knew, her hand was on the doorknob of her own room. She twisted it open, her feet trudging forward as the door slammed shut behind her, enveloping her in the darkness of the room.