Chapter 1 : Hurting
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Long minutes passed, and still Dominique went unnoticed, just watching. But Dominique always went unnoticed, because she was a Nothing. While Victoire was an Everything.
When Victoire had been at Hogwarts, boys had thrown themselves at her feet, begging for her attention. She had blinked at them and smiled that pretty, pretty smile before turning them all away. There was only one man for her in the end. One soulmate. One Happily Ever After, and countless true love’s kisses.
Dominique hadn’t had one boyfriend, and at fifteen years of age had never been kissed. Everyone knew how Dominique was a virgin. Virgin. (The worst thing to be called) And Dominique had never been one to lock away pain- she let the pain consume her. She was hurting with every fibre of her being, and still no-one noticed. The worst part? Dominique knew how no-one would.
I fumbled with my shoelaces, trying to tie them as quickly as possible but ultimately just getting them even more hopelessly tangled. I cursed my stupidities; I knew this was my one chance. Richard was waiting, and I coudn't be late! But I managed to slop some mascara over my horribly pale eyelashes before performing a mediocre sprint over to where he’d wanted to meet up with me. I still couldn’t believe he’d ACTUALLY WANTED TO MEET UP WITH ME. (I was disbelieving)
Dominique was always searching. Searching for someone to take away the pain- someone to hold her and love her like everyone loved Victoire. But who could want her? She wasn’t beautiful, or clever, or funny, or nice. She was worthless.
But then Richard had come out of nowhere, all cool demeanour and smouldering eyes that filled Dominique with ashes. And he told her about herself. His words were harsh and cruel, he sealed them with a kiss from those cutting lips.
Richard pulled me to him and slipped a hand around my waist, occasionally dipping a thumb beneath the fabric of my jeans. I pressed against his touch, my starved heart suddenly flying from the attention. He laughed,
“Naughty girl.” And his kisses were like chocolates; sweet, addicting, and so very unhealthy. He covered me in them. (I melted)
Richard gave Dominique lessons. He told her it was because she was too embarrassing to be dating publicly until she completed them- he said how grateful she should be that anyone as popular as him was bothering to love her at all. He was her saviour, and she lapped up his words, thinking each one to be undeniably true. But the pain still did not go- it just seemed to increase. When he ignored her in classes. Laughed at her ugliness along with everyone else. It was just another knife in Dominique’s breaking back.
His head was buried in my neck now, and I jerked away after his tongue flicked out to caress my ear.
“What are you doing?” I asked cautiously.
“Our next lesson,” he murmured back, crawling over to where I’d moved and pulling me onto his lap.
“What is it?” It seemed I only ever spoke to him in questions. And he always had every answer.
“Learning to play. Big girl play, though.” (I played along)
All Dominique ever thought about in between their meetings, was Richard. She pined after him- her body and heart physically aching for his touch.
But the lessons and rejections made Dominique lose confidence; she filled herself with doubts and ‘maybe’s’.
“Now kiss my neck.” I hesitated, staring at the smooth expanse of skin. Then I carefully pushed my lips against, marvelling at the softness. “Not like that, stupid girl!” Richard scolded me. Every lesson left a new scar. (I was scarred for life)
Richard demonstrated the proper way upon my own neck, and my heart fluttered cautiously. Arms, legs, lips, teeth. Tongue. (I used it)
Dominique found a way to make herself invisible. She crept through the shadows of the school and revelled in the terrible feeling of power and danger that came with the stolen cloak. She never wanted to take it off again, wishing she could hide away forever. But wishes never came true, because of they did then maybe more people would’ve loved her. (Victoire).
But she could sneak around anywhere she wanted to now, and sometimes she crept up to the boy’s dormitories just to watch Richard sleeping. She stood and watched. And waited. And realised how lucky she was. And at the same time, she was crushed by all the pain, the doubt, the loose ends, the loneliness.
Dominique’s feet found their way to the medicine cabinet before she knew what was happening. She was scared of what she knew was about to happen, but a strange part of her didn’t even care.
Richard pulled my head back and kissed my mouth once, nibbling on my bottom lip and tongue before standing up. Pushing me away.
“Moisturise more, Dominique. It’s what everyone does- and your skin is too rough. Like a boy’s.” Then he walked away and I tucked my shirt back in and sat for a while, already missing him. (I moisturised)
Dominique didn’t realise how dependant she had become upon the potions to get her through each week until they ran out.
They ran out.
She was still floating on clouds from that last bottle, which was 20 bottles too many, really, but if she was to be quite honest with herself, being filled with cotton wool wasn’t much better than being eaten by the pain. At least the hurting had been sharp, and it had kept her focused. Sometimes she even got angry. But the soft, round, bluntness of the potions was a little scary.
But she had still drunk them.
Dominique had drunk them all.
And someone was going to find out now.
I could still smell him in the air, and I sniffed and sniffed and kept sniffing until I was suddenly crying. And I curled my body into a ball, thinking of Victoire and hating her indifference. Her absence from my life.
It began to rain, and I welcomed the cold water with open arms, beating feeling steadily back into my limbs. I walked back up to the castle. No-one could tell you were crying if you walked in the rain. (I ran)
And then the worst possible thing happened to Dominique. She had detention at the time she was meant to be meeting Richard behind the Quidditch shed that week.
She didn’t care that it was because they’d found out about the potions. Or how they were telling her to talk to her parents, to get 'help' as if she were some sort of drug addict. (They didn’t know how much she was hurting). But she hated them, because they were making her miss the meeting with Richard. She hated everyone. Especially the other silly, silly girls in her dorm who giggled as they looked up words like ‘fuck’ in the dictionary, wrote crude messages on the desks and had no idea what it was like. What it felt like to give your heart, your soul, your body to another, and suffer so much because of it. All her life Dominique had wanted love. And now she had it, she was empty. Except hadn’t she always been empty?
I dreamt of the day that I completed all the lessons. The day when Richard would accept me, attach me firmly to his arm and show me off to the world. Victoire would know then- she’d realise I wasn’t such a freak anymore. Everyone would. I imagined Richard beside me always, his lips, his arms, his voice. (I yearned)
Dominique had to sit through her detention, knowing that with every second Richard became further from her reach. Every time she wrote the letter ‘r’ her quill punctured the parchment, fuelled by her anger and regret. She had tried to tell Richard about the situation during the day, but he hadn’t wanted to know her.
That night, Dominique could not sleep. Because the whole school was buzzing with the news.
Richard Nott had a new girlfriend.
Dominique saw Richard with his girlfriend everywhere in her mind. Kissing, holding hands, their laughter filling up the entire school. And she clenched her fists as she walked past, telling herself not to cry. Not to cry. Not to cry. But she was dying a little inside. And no amount of self-brewed potions could take away the pain this time. (She wanted to be that girl in his arms again)
And she still went to the meeting place that week, hoping against hope that he might be there. But he wasn’t. There were just leaves, blowing around in the cold wind. Such a cold wind. It chilled her heart.
But suddenly hands were round her waist, pulling her back into such a familiar chest. And she didn’t even have time to ask, “Why?” before Richard ensnared Dominique again and again. (She didn’t understand how she could be so easy to use)
“Wrap your legs around my waist, Dominique. Do it for me?” I obliged, twisting my hips to encircle his waist with my legs. He pushed against me, hands tangled in my hair. “Do you want me to teach you the final lesson?” he whispered. (I nodded)
No-one could taunt Dominique about being a virgin any longer.
She barricaded herself in the bathroom and stood in the shower, letting the water wash over her. It alternated between hot and cold, turning her battered body pink and blue. There was a dull ache in her heart over what she had done, and she was just tired. Oh so tired of it all. Of feeling. Of living. Of trying.
She hadn’t taken any potions in a few days; her body was trembling like a leaf and she felt sick. People were banging on the door now, the noise and the water and the rush and the hurting gathering into one massive whine, getting louder and higher and unbearable. (She was never coming out of this bathroom)
Dominique wondered what everyone would do if she died.
Dominique Loretta Weasley had just wanted to feel wanted. She had walked every day, lost in a world of hurt and anger. She was blinkered and fettered by her own ignorance because people had actually cared. (And she was actually wanted)
Dominique opened her eyes, quite comfortable in the hospital bed, but immediately hated the sight of tubes and potions surrounding her; the smell of death and medicine and pain. (She never wanted to hurt again). Then she looked to her right and she saw her sister. Victoire. Victoire had come to hug her, and hold her hand, and kiss her forehead. (Victoire was here!) And she stroked Dominique’s hair and whispered something in her ear.
“Oh, Dom you stupid girl! I love you- I’ve always loved you.”
And maybe everything wasn’t completely alright again, but it was that tiniest bit better. (She smiled)
AUHOR'S NOTE: This is unlike anything I've ever written before...so I'd love some opinions on it, please! It needs editing and such, but I really wanted to post it. I suppose it's a story of pain...but also of love.
It was inspired by Phoenix_Flames's 'Hunger Games Soundtrack Challenge' because I got the song lyric 'Every lesson leaves a new scar' from the song 'Eyes Wide Open' by Taylor Swift :) It's also for acrules's 'I'm a believer challenge'. I believe that I am worthless.
edit: 28/9/12: formatting!
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