Chapter 10 : Bonnie West, the little angel that is my sister
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 9|
Background: Font color:
BUUUTIFUL picture by
I took the arm of the male healer, shuddering in panic and suddenly, we just weren’t there anymore.
Life, colour and all kinds of images were swirling around me, all in a blurry mess and I spun round and round. I felt sick and decided to close my eyes to try to shut out all of the pain and worry. More tears winced through my closed lids.
Most wouldn’t have a clue what was going on. Just because they said they were taking me to see my mom, in your eyes, probably meant nothing. But, you see, this is the woman from which I inherited my accident attraction.
All of a sudden I felt my feet plant onto the ground again and felt my body become still. I wanted to stop seeing it all but my vision was perfect and I took in everything around me.
I looked around me and was stunned to see all was just white. Just white light, beaming into my unfocused eyes. When I could see properly and steadied myself on a seat, I could look around.
People were bustling through the room, carrying patients on stretchers and potions passed from hand to hand. I spun on my feet to see I was standing in the waiting room area of St. Mungo’s. A doctor brushed past me causing me to stumble in shock as he darted across the room without so much as a ‘sorry’ to reach my ear.
The healer who had taken me side-along apparition helped me back up again and motioned for Tom and me to follow him down a pale blue corridor.
“So what happened to her?”
“Is she alright?” Tom and I were asking in anxious voices. Whatever happened to mum, it wasn’t good. The man gave us a pitiful expression.
“Kids. Your mother, well, er... she was on the farm at work. And she was using a poison spell to use on the weeds growing in her fields, but she used it on such a wide area that it went wrong and hit her quite heavily. She’s been unconscious for hours. We’re doing everything we can…..”
I gulped back tears.
Mom? Unconscious? Suffering? Poisoned?
It was becoming hard to breathe.
I turned my head away, desperatley trying to bite back tears. But it was no use.
I knew I shouldn’t have been feeling like crying, especially in front of my brother. How could he be confident and strong when his own big sister couldn’t stop bawling? I had to be strong. For Tom.
Mum’s alright, Berry, she’s alright, I told myself.
“What happened to Bonnie then? Where is she?!” I demanded angrily as endless tears swarmed my already red, soaked, cheeks. I might as well remember my own sister, you know? At this rate I’d run out of tears to cry with.
It was 11 o’clock at night. I should be sleeping. I shouldn't have to be caught up in a situation like this.
“It’s alright, it’s alright.” The healer said, as if he was practised in these situations.
“It’s not alright!” I snapped back in anger, immediately regretting so.
“Your little sister is in here.” The healer said pointing to a glass door before he disappeared in fear of me. A humourless laugh came to me in my head. A healer, afraid of me, a distraught tiny teenage girl. Tom and I calmed down considerably at the thought of Bonnie. “You can go in.”
Tom and I walked in to find a troubled five year old girl, with sandy blonde curls and china blue eyes, wearing a little pair of dungarees with a pink long-sleeved top underneath, and was crying in frustration and confusement as an elderly healer tried to soothe her.
As soon as the little girl saw me, she pulled herself out of the pathetic woman’s grasp and ran straight up to me with her arms open. I walked to her, bending over and swooping her up into the air, hugging her tight and kissing her silky hair.
“Wha...happen?” She said through tears. I looked at her and she soon realised I was crying too and she just cried some more, bawling in exhaustion. I linked my arms under hers and brought her over to one of the seats and sat her on my lap. The healer who had tried and failed to comfort her nodded severely and walked out the room, her silver hair bobbing up and down as she left, leaving Tom, Bonnie and I in peace. Tom sat down on the seat next to us.
There was a silence hanging between the three of us, even with Bonnie’s hysterical cries, it was still hovering throughout the room.
“Is mum gonna… be okay?” Tom squeaked as a few tears crept down his stony face, avoiding that word I didn’t want to hear. Sometimes he reminded me so much of dad…
No, no no no.
If Mum actually did... leave us, I’d be all alone. I can’t take care of Bonnie! I can’t send her to an orphanage either…
Don’t think like that.
“I dunno, Tom. I don’t know…” I said and stroked his fluffy blonde hair. The same hair as my mom’s.
Bonnie curled up in my lap, murmuring things before she drifted off to sleep.
What the hell’s happening?
An hour ago I was at the ball having the time of my life.
Within sixty minutes my life has turned completely upside down, wrong way round and completley bonkers.
This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. Mum can’t be ill. Mum can’t be… dying. I’m hallucinating. This...
It is happening Berry . You’ve just got to deal with it. Hiding away and calling yourself delusional won’t fix anything. Face it and realise. The world isn’t perfect.
I know the world isn’t perfect! LEAVE ME ALONE.
My lips trembled as I silently sobbed myself to sleep, with my younger siblings at my side, just as devastated and scared.
I was shaken awake all too soon, pulled back into reality, and found myself alone, except a healer, rubbing my shoulders vigorously.
“Where’s, where’s Bonnie?! Tom?!” I said, half asleep, but still alarmed at their absence.
“Don’t worry, we moved them into a separate room, they’re only young, they need to rest.” The man said kindly, talking to me as if I was a child.
“I knew that.” I said defensively, suddenly over protective of my siblings and my maturity level that was currently being insulted.
“I’m Healer Martin.” The man said, holding out a hand but I ignored it.
“What’s going on?” I said, eager to know why I had been woken so abruptly. The man ruffled his hair.
“I guess there’s no time to waste. Your mother, she’s woken, but she’s very weak. I must be frank and since you are an adult, I’m going to give it to you straight. She may not live.” The man said but half way through his last sentence I had already brushed past him and into the room he was pointing at.
I took a deep breath and opened the door to gape in shock.
My mother, my idol, the one I was comforted from, the one I was cuddled by, the one I looked for help in, was now, weak and vulnerable, laying fragile as ever in a cot in the centre of the room, with tubes everywhere and monitors circling the small hospital bed.
The healers acknowledged me with a nod and left the room. I rushed forward to her, leaned over and hugged her, bursting into more tears.
“Mum. Mum. Mummy, Mummy.” I sobbed into her smooth wavy hair as she gently cuddled me.
“Oh, darling...” She croaked with a hopeless smile. I leaned back a bit, grabbed a stool and sat forward by her bedside.
“What- what- what happened...?” I sniffled through tears, streaming down my distraught face. She didn’t need to ask what I was saying.
“I was so silly dear,” She said, smiling faintly. “Trying to use such a complex spell like that. And just for some stupid weeds!” She said through hushed tears. “Oh honey, I should have been so much more-“
Before she could finish her sentence she inhaled sharply then, almost as if in slow motion, she went still and motionless. I went hysterical and looked at the monitor showing her heartbeat. The beats were slowing rapidly.
“Mum! MUM!” I shrieked, shaking her. She didn’t respond. I began punching my fists against the walls, screaming for help.
A swarm of healers rushed in and cast some enchantments and brewed some potions by her side till she was awake again and they left just as quickly. I rushed back to my stool at her side, relieved.
“Mum you scared me, promise you’ll never do that again.” I said shaking my head as tears of fear poured from my heavy lids. “Promise mum, promise….”
She gave me a look that clearly showed how much she wanted to keep that promise, but couldn’t.
“Hun, I can’t. Honey, you’ve got to understand. I, darling, I… probably won’t... won’t…” And then, my mother broke down into tears and the inevitable hit me and I realised.
She can’t just promise. Of course she can’t. She’s fighting for her life; she’s fighting, dancing between that thin, dangerous, line of life and death.
My mum is dancing on the tightrope of life and death.
My mum might. Might.
I could see in her pained pale face that she realised that I realised now of the severe consequences of her actions which could be arriving shortly.
My mind, for a fraction of a second, wandered to my friends. Luiza had probably been desperately looking for me. I wondered if they had insurance at Hogwarts. I hoped they do cause they’re not going to have much of a Great Hall left when she realised something was wrong.
Reality suddenly took a hold of me again.
My heart thudded, beats quickened.
I was running out of time.
“No. No mum. You’re,” I sniffed. “You’re not l-leaving me! You... you can’t.” I sobbed, trembling in fear. “Not with Dad gone now. Dad’s gone and that means you can’t just leave. After everything we went through, when dad left, we helped each other back to normal. D-don’t make me do that again, and alone. You can’t… Mummy, I love you!”
She looked at me helpless, with no idea as to how to comfort me. Her delicate form tilted forward to kiss my forehead.
“Baby, you need to listen to me. If I leave you-“
She stopped and looked nervously at the monitor, the beats moving slowly down.
“If I leave. I want you to promise me something. Can you keep a promise?” She said weakly.
I nodded and sniffed, my vision becoming blurry with tears.
“I need you, you, Baby West-“
I didn’t flinch at my name.
“I need you to look after the others. Don’t, don’t let them... don’t let them take Bonnie away.” She said, tears sliding down her pained cheeks.
I sighed, still panicky, and rolled my eyes with a tinkle of faint laughter coming through.
“Of course I... you know I wouldn’t let them do that!” I said shaking vigorously through strained tears with a hint of a smile as my mother sent me a loving look. “But Mum… Mum… I’m… I’m not ready for you to leave. I’m not ready!” I wailed, sobbing harder and harder.
My heart hurts.
How can you feel a heart breaking? It’s so intense and powerful so how is it possible something so big and so painful not to make a sound?
This can’t be happening.
It isn’t real.
This is just another nightmare. Another bad dream. Another made up world where nothing makes sense.
Right Berry ?
You’ll never be ready Berry .
“And, darling, I need you to be strong. Even in your darkest times of grief, you’ve gotta stay strong. You got to hold your head up high and know you can get through this, and you will!” My mum said smiling through tears. The beeping was getting faster. I’m losing time.
“And, baby, you may refuse to recognise it, but you’re beautiful, Berry! You’ve got the brightest smile, the warmest laugh and you look so much like your father…” She said, dreaming off.
The man who left this household four years ago.
The man who betrayed us.
The man who used to comfort me, until he wasn’t there to comfort me anymore, he was only there to comfort another woman.
A stranger. A traitor. I didn’t want to even see my father again.
“Honey, you deserve only the best. My beautiful girl, look after them. Tom. Bonnie. It’s going to be hard, when I’m gone.” She sniffled. “But you know I’m always here. Always with you, always have been, always will, in your heart.” She said, hand hovering lightly over my heart.
I shook my head, trembling in exhaustion. It had probably been the longest day of my life and it was three in the morning and I was still wearing a red party dress, with dark curls soaked in juice.
What I said next, I had no idea where it came from. I don’t know how I formed the words, I don’t know why I thought of it in that moment of time. But I just wanted my mother to know it.
And I had to tell her.
“Mum, I… I… I love someone Mummy. I know..” I sniffled for the hundredth time. “I know he’ll never love me back, but I wanted to tell you… be-because you’ll never see the day I get married. You’ll never see the day I have children… I want you as much a part of my life as I can.”
She nodded smiling.
“And Mom… the boy. He’s… he’s no normal child. He’s, um, how do I say this? He might, possibly, be bane of my existence?”
She gave a laugh which was exactly what I wanted. I needed a laugh. I needed a smile.
And at that current moment in time I was memorising that laugh, locking it away, holding on to it tight, containing that comforting sound, allowing it to fill me up.
She smiled. “Honey… I’m happy for you dear. It wouldn’t possibly be that Potter boy you complain about in all your letters?” She said expectantly, a wide smile on her frail face. It wasn’t a question.
The beeping was getting faster.
I gave a sheepish nod through tears, laughing.
“But Mum… that’s not… that’s not important now.” I said realising time was running out, causing more tears, more pain, more panic. “Mom… not, not… not for one minute. No, not one second will I ever forget you.” I said shaking my head, as water pooled in my eyes. “Never.” I whispered.
“I love you so much.” She said weakly. The beeping was faster, and faster.
She had seconds left.
“Never.” I whispered again.
And we stayed like that.
Until the end.
The monitor beeped continuously until it stopped altogether and I sobbed, clutching my mother’s peaceful, lifeless form. Clinging onto the remains of my childhood. That woman that kept me strong. My own mother, dying in my arms...
Isn’t it… unfair?
Isn’t all… too early for this?
I cradled her dark blonde head toward me and kissed her rosy cheeks.
She’s actually gone.
Never coming back.
And that’s when I started to go mad.
I let go of my mother, tears staining my face, a stain that wouldn’t come out, always there, like a scar. And I started shrieking.
Shrieking curses through the hospital.
Banging the walls in anger. Stomping my feet like a seven year old. Crashing the monitors. Ripping the curtains.
“WHY HER?!” I yelled as I kicked over my stool. “WHY NOT ME?!”
I started shaking, unable to stand yet with the feeling in my body that I could destroy the world with all this hate, all this anger.
All this sorrow.
I started screaming and shouting things I didn’t even know. I started yelling about Dad. I was screeching about responsibility that now rested on my shoulders. Bawling about how my friends would pity me, and I would feel pathetic.
I was losing my mind.
Losing it all.
When I kicked over an expensive machine, throwing a piece of equipment at a wall, the healers came in.
But I didn’t see them.
All I saw was Mum. Only her in this white mess.
Just bloody white.
Her beautiful face, peaceful and resting.
Why did she look so calm when I was screaming my head off? Bawling my eyes out? I was losing the plot, all for her, and she just lay there, so peaceful?
I screamed and ripped at healers’ clothes.
Kicked at the attackers.
They were trying to take me away from her.
Take me away from my dead mother.
I was all alone.
I continued to screech and wail and fight. They’d got me now, pulling me out of the room, dragging my hysterical, demented form out of the room.
I shouted back at them, telling them to let me go, telling them to get off me, telling them to give me her back, make her come back.
But it was like there was no sound. My voice was dying having cried so much. And all I could see was her. Just her.
And then, a white clothed arm was in front of my face, a door slammed, and she was gone.
I set myself free, banging against the door in absolute rage. I was deranged, unstable, and dangerous.
Yes, I, Berry, was dangerous.
I saw another white arm holding a vial up to my mouth, and in my haste to get away, and my screams and demands, I forgot to shut my mouth.
And the liquid slid down, and all was black.
The wind sliced at my face as I advanced through the forest, just a blur through the shady trees, with sprinkles of sunlight peeping through.
The bike underneath me, for the first time without stabilisers, was gleaming purple with sparkly design and lilac ribbons flying off of the handle bars. My feet were pedalling away, becoming out of control.
Where did Daddy say the brakes were?
I steered myself inches away from a massive trunk and started bumping up the uneven path on sticks and mounds and twigs.
I started to skid out of control when I then came to a huge mound of earth which I cycled straight up, and then, I was flying.
Flying through the air, between the trees, screaming in exhilaration and equally with fear of the landing I would have.
Time seemed to slow down as I, and the bike soared through the forest green, flickers in the distance. And then, I began to fall, fall and fall back down where I saw a ditch up ahead which was bound to end nastily.
As tears formed on my tiny cheeks, and I was about to land, a miracle happened.
Centimetres from the ditch below, I was suddenly pulled up from my bike and flown upwards and carefully planted on safe ground.
I looked backwards in disbelief to see my crumpled bike sub-merged in water and mud. Still in disbelief at the most recent events I ran out of the forest and into the clearing, where my Mama awaited me.
I ran screaming, arms flapping madly as I plummeted into her grabbing her and crying onto her denim covered leg, now washed in tears.
The young blonde woman leaned down and cradled me, picking me up off the floor and into her arms, bouncing me up and down, scanning for any bruises.
“What happened honey?” She whispered as she soothingly stroked my brown hair.
“My bike tripped Mummy!” I said through tears. “I flew in the air and my bike got broken.”
“And you came out unscathed?” My mum said, rather in disbelief. I cocked my head in confusement.
“What does that mean?” I asked, puzzled. My mother shook her head smiling as her blonde curls bobbed up and down.
“Never mind, darling.” She said, and picked me up, taking me back to the house where my father took me out for a walk where we retrieved the bicycle.
But that day, I learnt something.
Mummy said something of this happening. I’m not a normal girl, am I? I’m special, that’s what Mummy and Daddy talk of in hushed voices. They were waiting for something, a sign.
I realise now, what they were waiting for. Acting as muggles until the point they found out if I was magical or not. If I was, they would retrieve their wands from the safe they had been kept in for four years since the day I was born.
I found out, that day, I was a witch.
I had just left Tom and Bonnie at the Hotel for the second night without... her.
I had been apparated by a kind ministry worker that was one of few who knew how to apparate in and out of Hogwarts.
Hogwarts, although nothing had changed, now looked different to me.
As I entered that room, and looked around, the things in there, they weren’t objects, instruments, or tools any more to me.
They were now just things, things to rip into two, things to throw at the walls, things to step on and wait for the crunching sound, things to smash, things to break, just things to use my anger out on.
My stress was uncontainable.
I could barely stand from all the pain surging through my body. I had to shove a fist in my mouth to stop myself from reaching out and smashing the portraits to ground, and jumping on them till they were flattened entirely. Even then, I started biting into my fist, taking out my anger on my own body, hurting myself because of my pain, only to cause more pain. It didn’t make sense.
Why do I do this now? I thought to myself. Why does everything look so…so vulnerable? So easy to break and punch and kick? Even people are starting to have the same reaction to me now.
I didn’t say anything to the concerned looking McGonagall as I took my seat by her desk, one I had taken a custom to many a time. After a few minutes of fiddling with my hands, pinching my own skin, I looked up.
McGonagall looked older, her features lined even more. Her eyes more lost and distressed rather than stern, her mouth forming a weak smile of reassurance that didn’t even exist. The usual purple bags that nestled under her eyes had grown to unhealthy forms.
She looks like me. Not physically, but emotionally; lost, exhausted, angry and miserable.
She took a deep breath before setting to her stern features once more.
“Right, Berry. Miss West, I mean. As you probably know, we have some decisions to make about your future.” She leaned in. “Now that your mother has passed-“ I flinched at those words. “You are alone and oldest in your family. From the information I have received, before… before your mother’s death, your parents were divorced when you were at the age of 12, two months after your sister was born. Am I correct?”
I didn’t dare open my mouth. Instead, I nodded, awaiting her to continue.
“-Well. Your father is currently found to be living in Australia, I can make arrangements for him to fly over here and-“
“NO.” I said coldly. The last thing that I wanted, in all this mess, was my stuck up father to put his snooty nose into this business when he couldn’t give two shits for Mum.
McGonagall raised a brow. I prepared myself.
“No. I mean, no thank you. My father doesn’t need to come in all this. He… he doesn’t care for my family anymore. And I’d rather not have to face him again.” I said, swallowing nervously.
McGonagall looked unconvinced. “Very well, if that is your choice on behalf of your family, as you are sixteen years of age, you are permitted to make that choice. But, might I warn you, this process for your future is going to become very complicated further on from here. Are you sure about this?”
I gulped and nodded my head. The decision had already been made long ago.
“Very well then. As your younger sister, so far in her five years of life, has made no sign of magical inheritance, we may have to send her to an orphanage or a…..”
“No. I mean, no, she can’t… you can’t just send her away. She’s staying with me. I’m not letting her into someone else’s’ hands.” I said, shaking my head vigorously.
“Alright. Well, things are seeming to be very difficult… It would be possible to organise a house in Hogsmeade for your family. Mr. Tom can stay at school, and you, within two weeks of the coming of age, can live at the house with Miss Bonnelyn.”
No one called Bonnie Bonnelyn, not even… never mind.
I thought to consider this.
“But Professor, what about Hogwarts?” I asked, my voice quiet and fearing. What if I couldn’t even….go to Hogwarts anymore?
“Oh, don’t you worry. We could have you have apparating lessons early, and then you could take your younger sibling to her current school, and still arrive on time for Hogwarts.”
I never thought my mother’s death could cause so much trouble.
“Alright, I guess that is a good idea. But how will I have the money? To rent a house?” I asked, still unsure of my decision.
“Well, it has been recorded that your mother was asking you to get a job on Saturdays and Sundays? How about that?” She asked.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. “Ok.” I said my voice wavering. “Life’s just going to be so much harder from now on.” I said, breaking down to tears in front of the Headmistress. McGonagall then put a long slender arm onto mine in comfort, rubbing it soothingly.
“I know, I know.” She pitied. After a minute, during which I had pulled myself together once more, she sighed and spoke again. “You do realise Miss West, that through this process, you’re going to have to sell the farm….”
I nodded my head, tears silently dripping down my face and onto my lap.
“I shall make some calls and arrangements, organise a flat for you in Hogsmeade, and you can go rest in your dormitory for now.” She said, picking up some paper work and starting to make some enchantments.
“Professor? I’d rather not go back to the dorm.” I said. But she couldn’t hear. The truth was I was scared of going back to my dorm. Scared I’d destroy it, and swear at my closest friends, and cry and weep and wail about the growing pain inside of me, to all the ones I love.
So I left the room and hid in the room of requirement, an old favourite of mine that kept me privacy from everyone else.
An hour later, I was called back into the office, where McGonagall produced an image of a cheap and dreary looking flat above Scrivenshaft’s Quills store, where I would work from dawn to dusk on Saturday’s and Sundays. My apparating classes had been arranged, all detentions cancelled and apparition would begin every evening as soon as I got back to school, and for the mean time, I was allowed to rest in the new house with my brother and sister.
Bonnie would not be going back to school till I learnt the apparition process in full and taken the apparition test.
We were sent back to the farm with McGonagall who helped us pack our belongings.
I walked up the dreary carpet stairs, like a ghost floating through a house. But this house wasn’t haunted, it was just full of too many memories, that make endless tears fall from my eyes.
I drifted into a room and sat on the floor and realised.
I hadn’t even recognised my own bedroom.
My bedroom was rather interesting. From a young age I got so much mess on the walls that I just began to do it on purpose, splashing paint of all colours across the cream wall. I painted random things like hearts, swirls, people, skulls, doodles, flowers, text, all sorts basically.
I sometimes would draw just one word, a word that may seem random and insignificant to you, but to me, it was a word that linked to a memory. See, from birth I have always been forgetful. Like, actually, inhumanly forgetful, more like goldfish forgetful. (Goldfish have the memory span of 3 seconds exactly. Berry ’s have the memory span of 2 second precisely).
Not. Even. Kidding.
All the time as I child, I would go down to the kitchen to get something, and then forget what I was looking for and have to go all the way back up stairs to find something in my room to trigger my memory.
So now I keep the best memories on a wall, the words just trigger them into my mind again.
I got up off the wooden floor and flopped myself on my lilac-sheeted bed, my hair splaying in all directions, and began to cry into my pillow.
From the morning after… Mum, I would never allow myself to cry in front of anyone else. I only cry in the shadows, the corners, where no one could see. I hate crying. Sometimes, when you’re really upset about something, or someone, you actually want to shed a few tears, in front of the ones you love, to show them your pain. To be sympathised. But they never come. But when you’re in front of everyone, and your really angry, the tears come to you and your afraid to show one drop, even if there is a good reason behind it, but then you have to run out the room to stop yourself from bursting into tears and embarrassing yourself.
So I just sat there sobbing to myself when I heard McGonagall call up the stairs to check everything was alright. Instantly I wiped away the tears and called back down to her, before grabbing a spare trunk, and for once, packing up all I owned.
I went to the cupboards first, taking out all the jeans and t-shirts, leaving behind all the skirts my mum had bought me and I’d never worn. When I saw the dresses that my mum had bought me, I took her favourite ones, never wanting to forget.
I then moved onto my desk where I just took a few things, like my pens, Quills and parchment, as well as my old diary that I wrote in third and fourth year, deciding I wanted to keep those memories, no matter how…er….weird they were. I also took with me all the old sheets that had sat on my desk for years, of the songs I had written and scribbled out, or drawings of random people or characters. I took my guitar, and my old teddy bear, Billy, who now had no nose since my absurd little brother bit it off cause he was angry with me when I was (this is a little embarrassing) fifteen? I cried and ripped up his Quidditch posters for Chudley Cannons (WORST TEAM EVER) and we both kind of got in trouble.
I also packed my posters, CDs, my muggle cell phone, all my photo frames, a few Muggle DVDs and I even managed to pile in all my books along with a few other random objects of significance. I white-washed the walls and finished up.
When I looked back at that room, for the last time, it was sad. But it wasn’t too sad, because, in my head it wasn’t my room anymore. Because it wasn’t my room, without all my random belongings. It wasn’t my room without the graffitied walls. It wasn’t my room without my iPod playing my favourites songs along with a few cows and horse noises in the background from the fields echoing to my window.
I just didn’t belong there anymore.
I trudged down the stairs, my suitcase thudding down each step behind me, and once I reached the second floor I saw Tom walk out of his room with a suitcase just as large. We both walked together in silence till we reached the main corridor where we backed our suitcases onto the wall and I left in silence to help Bonnie pack up.
I reached her room to be blinded by the typical pinkness. The two corners of my mouth crept up ever so slightly even though, really, I didn’t feel any better.
I went and sat on her tiny bed, and laid my head back on the swarm of teddy bears. Bonnie was so little, she could barely come to terms of my mother’s... passing as much as I could. She sat on the floor, her head hanging, before she lifted it up to me, pouting.
“I dunno what ta pack.” She said, crossing her arms with a bit of a smile. A toddler can’t stay sad too long. I guess that’s what I needed. Reassurance someone else can deal with my pain but still get through the day. Hope.
We chatted for a bit, on small things as I helped collect a few belongings around the room that were essential for our new house. A house, not a home. Stuff like clothes, dresses, shoes, toys were all stuffed into a little stretchy bag with polka dots. I got out her toothbrush, and sparkly bits and bobs to pack as well. The whole way through she just chatted and chatted, about walking to the park with Mum, meeting new friends at school, and going to the shops and the swings.
“-and then she bought us lollipops! I got a blue one! It was like a heart!! Oh, do you still have Lucy?”
“What?” I said, completely caught off guard.
“Lucy - my dolly?” She said, worried that I’d lost it. And then I remembered, she had meant the plastic doll she’d given to me at the beginning of the year. That all seemed so long ago now.
“Oh, I have it.” I said, giving the best of a smile I could manage. “It’s in my trunk down stairs.”
She clapped her hands together in happiness, an emotion that was now a stranger to me, a face I recognised but couldn’t quite match a name to it. Then she leaned toward me, putting her tiny hand onto my knee in all seriousness, “Keep her safe.” She almost whispered. I nodded and we left the room and the house altogether.
I walked through the fields by myself for the last time. The last time. It didn’t seem real, am I really leaving the farm? Saying goodbye to my home for seventeen years? The wind brushed through my hair, gently letting it flap on to my tear frozen cheeks.
I looked up to see the sky, a clear blue, without one cloud to occupy the open space. The open space. In that moment, I felt free. Free, more free than I had felt in days. I began to run, across the bridge by the stream, and over the sheep fields, getting a few nips on the leg from my grumpy sheep dog, Sethy but I couldn’t care less. He was old now; he would most likely be put down once I’d left.
But that was beside the point now. In all my rage, and all my anger, I was just letting go, even if it would just last those small short ten minutes where I paced down the hill, screaming with delight and misery at the same time. Running into the woods, the sun, big and bright, glittering through the greenery, reaching through the trees to try and grab me up, take me away. As a childhood game, I began to dodge all the speckles of light on the muddy floor, and I sprinted over to the creak, where I finally sat still. Finally at peace. I just lay there, on the muddy bank, waiting to just be sucked up by the sun, whisked away by the wind. Just take me away from this dark, dark world. The stream trickled close to my ears, filling my mind with aquatic noise, with the trickles of the water, gliding down and through the forest.
I could have laid there forever. Could have stayed there for eternity. But fairytales can’t last forever.
When I heard McGonagall’s rather annoyed voice echoing throughout the trees, my home, I scrambled up off the ground, and sprinted back one last time, through the enchanting woods that and fields that were part of my life.
When we got back, and I was sombre once more, McGonagall dropped us off at my new flat above Scrivenshaft’s Quill store. She reluctantly excused herself, claiming she had work to get back to, and left us with the keys, by the grey, lifeless door, on a street in Hogsmeade.
I used the public key to open the door to the building, and it took five minutes for us all to get our luggage up the stairs. I got out the second key which was labelled to the address in front of me, number 32, and I turned the lock.
With no other hands free, I pushed the door gently with my foots and it creaked open to reveal a sad, and miserable living room, with a small sofa and a TV set, with an open kitchen, showered in dust. Coming off the room were three doors, all of which had foot marks, stains, and dents in.
A tiny tear escaped my eye as I turned to my two siblings who looked just as disappointed, and spoke, with a croak voice.
“This is it guys. Our new… home.”
I gulped and shut the door behind me.
A/N- Hey guys! IM SO MEAN I KNOW! I killed off her mother, MWHAHAHAHA. I'm a murderer. OMGIZZLES IM ACTUALLY A MURDERER! I think in this chapter you saw another side to Berry, rather than just the lunatic she is, you saw a bit more of her home life, like at the beginning. I thoughtshe had to be kind of different, cos lets face, we’re all different to when we’re at school and when we’re at home. But I hope she wasn’t too different? Any thoughts? Anyone? No? Yes? Please review, and thanks for all the past reviews you guys, they really (no kidding) make my day! And I always reply, so….REVIEW!! :D xx
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories
The grass is...
These Words ...