The distant chimes of the Bells of St. Joseph’s drags me out of the stupor that I call “sleep”, which is nothing more than the constant shifting of my consciousness from one electron to another, ascending through the continuum of Thought effortlessly, as if I’ve gained total control of my mind and soul. The bones in my body are vibrating in anticipation, just as a mother anticipates the birth of the unborn nestled in her core. I silently scoff at the irony of my own thought as I peel off the bed covers away from my frozen stature and edge silently towards the moonlight that is seeping through the tightly shut drapes. It is a miracle that there is any light escaping the drapes he has so meticulously and thoroughly sealed, but then again no wizard can come in between something that is deemed to exist by nature.

This is what I am. An existence doomed for continuity for no apparent reason.

The mere touch of moonlight on my skin roughens the contours, making the veins resemble a rockslide on a canyon. The sudden transformation ripples fear in my very spine, making me pull my arm away from the light that is now resting on his flawless face. My eyes linger on his face for a moment longer before averting towards the now dangerously shining beckon from hell itself.

The longer I stare at it the deeper my fear digs into my pores. The surroundings begin to ignite with the memories that are a constant reminder of who I am and what I have done. The longer I ignore them the louder its snares enrage. I feel the fire inch towards me as the seconds tick off but I can’t make myself look at any of it. My shame is greater than the impending doom. I am enraptured by fear and controlled by memories that are far gone yet ever present, irreversible yet changeable.

I am the puppet of the moon, the daughter of atrocity. I was annihilated to be reborn as the hand that smites death upon the innocent, so that they may burn for everything that was done to me throughout my life. Ignorance and denial, my innocent people. You are all guilty of it.

Chanting it over and over again under my breath, I take my usual position in front of the window and begin this endless tango for the thirteenth time.

A drunken man screaming at the top of his lungs, his wife cowering under the safety of the dining table. He has his wand in his hand and she is crying, oh endlessly crying, as she does every day. He sets everything in his line of vision ablaze. He throws the ornaments at the furniture, breaking them into pieces. He drags himself to the kitchen, dawdling his approach. He throws the cutlery and the china towards the hall. He throws the glasses everywhere, at the windows, at the doors and at…

His arms wrap around me protectively as my body begins to vibrate horrendously, my skin contracting and expanding over and over again as if to check whether my body is ready for this yet. He kisses me softly, down my face along my jaw line and it distracts me from the pain that is coursing through my body, slightly. He senses the shift in my demeanor and knows that he has my attention, that I’m not completely gone.

“Together. Always.”

His body instantaneously springs into an accelerating motion of continued vibrations and my body follows suit. His body is pressed against my back, shifting in synchronization with mine, transforming skin from soft to rough and fingers to claws. A howl rips at the air as I lose control, but his arms continue to wrap my body, his warmth seeping into my pores, keeping me from moving. He kisses my neck and nibbles my earlobe, his claws exploring my body, down my spine and up my hips until all of my tenderness is gone.

We become one, as we are in soul. We remain as one near the window, bathing in the moonlight, moving with the power of our passion and the pain until the blazing sun sets us free, with the promise of another time.

The little girl is almost of age. Just a year more and she will be an adult. She walks out of church, looking back flirtatiously as she knows he is looking. Even though anticipated, she cannot help the blush that creeps up her cheekbones traitorously, and the smile that attacks his face at the sight of her blush deepening her embarrassment more. He waves at her with a flying kiss and she turns away from him with the final promise of another time, with the smallest of smiles. Shane, the love of her life for the past ten years. Shane, the first and last love of her life since she was seven.

But as she turns away and heads towards the gate, it is Edward who takes her hand in his, for it is Edward that she is with. It is the sacrifice she had to make for Shane. She couldn’t let him break another girl’s heart, despite the fact that he has fallen in love with her. She cannot and will not be the reason for another girl’s heart break.

As Edward playfully whispers in her ear pulling her out of the premises, she risks one last glance at Shane. He looks hurt and moreover, betrayed. He looks at her accusingly as if she is using him. He looks at her with pure hatred, as if she broke his heart.

But it is he who led her on. He who made her his best friend knowing very well about her feelings towards him. She was never one to tell, for her ego was too big for that, but her blood always betrayed her as she could not help but turn crimson red each time she so much as saw him. He knew, and he led her on and on before telling her that he actually is taken.

It broke her heart and crippled the little girl in her, but she loved him still. Hers is a love that is unconditional and divine incarnate, and she never stopped loving him. He wanted her by his side and she became his best friend, but then he fell for her. He fell for her and is now being torn apart, as he didn’t want to hurt his girlfriend either, but neither could he help falling for the little girl. For, even though she is 17, her purity is unparalleled.

He fell for her, and she tried to stop him, but he was already in agony. He would have to either hurt a good girl or abandon the love of his life. He would be hurt either way and the guilt of it will keep him forever burning in agony.

So she took the choice into her own hands. She made the decision for him. She said yes to the first boy who asked her out that week, and she was taken. But at the same time, Shane made his choice as well.

He chose her.

But he had not the guts to tell her.

It’s been six weeks and he still tries to tell her indirectly. She was getting sick of it all. She hated Edward. He knew that she loved another but still kept her with him. He was addicted.

Shane felt that it was wrong to tell her the truth as she is now another’s, but he couldn’t for the life of him leave her side. He was addicted.

Now all he does is watch as she walks away, walks away from him.

She turns away from Edward and pulled out the cell-phone from her pocket, fearing what might be in store for her. She hopes against hopes that today, at least today, they would forget her, despise her and leave her. She wants all of them gone. She wants to be left alone.

Her blood drains from her body, travelling south to pool at the base of her feet. She shivers uncontrollably but Edward doesn’t notice. He is too busy whining about his life which is supposed to be the tragedy of the millennia. She shoves the phone deep inside her jeans-pocket and walks ahead, leaving him behind. He grabs her by the arm to keep her next to her, and she is reminded of her father.


Hugo watches her dreams as she sleeps through the day. She is pale, her veins a vibrant midnight diamond against the flat porcelain surface of her skin. He does this every time she sleeps. He didn’t feel as if he was stepping out of line. She is his. All of her. If he didn’t look, he wouldn’t have known half her life, even if she has told him all of it. He wouldn’t have known the fear, pain, humiliation and self-loathing. He would never have understood why she thinks so low of herself; this fragile beautiful girl. So tough to the world yet so broken inside.

She is having a nightmare as usual. She is twitching from head to toes. Her mind is screaming, thrashing in the pool of her own victims. His face contorts into a frown as an idea strikes him. He hates using her fragility for his own ends. Even if this was to help her, it didn’t feel right.

More to the point, he was afraid of what he might see.

Who he might see.

The pool of blood that I’m currently drowning in fades, the dead arms that are pulling me inside their hell morphing into the trees of the courtyard of Cuphea, waiting for the girls. I wandlessly play with rose petals that I picked up from the front lawn of the Herbology lab before I came here, my mind wondering to the Pitch.

That’s when I see him.

Skyler Wood.

With a skinny friend.


The little girl is dead.

They won. After all these years they have won, and now the little girl is dead.

Her face is still stained with tears that were shed hours ago. Her right hand is still wrapped around the dagger that she couldn’t use, screaming volumes of cowardice to the world. She was not able to use it like she wished she did and yet, she is dead.

None of it matters now. She has done the impossible.

She has created a monster.


After months of crushing on Skyler Wood I finally got to know him. He is a lovely person. That is of course if you ignore the fact that he is an unforgivable egomaniac. The universe itself is not big enough to fit in his opinion of himself.

Not that Hugo, the person whose arm I’m currently doodling on, is any better.

He just happens to be my kind of maniac.

Karma is funny, really. I befriended Hugo because he was Skyler’s friend. Truth be told he befriended me because they all wanted me dead for being an infuriating know-it-all. I was the radio that never shut up.

I’m still the radio that never shuts up.

I look at his form, splayed on the shrubbery lawn at the Potter Manor, next to the green lake. The lake is the colour of Lily Potter’s eyes, as if she has claimed eternal refuge and clemency at her son’s residence. The green of the water is slightly reflected on Hugo’s face, making him look divine and dark like a Black Angel.

My Black Angel.

It wasn’t inevitable that we should both hopelessly fall for each other. We are so similar in many ways and yet polar opposites in so many others.  We are two compatible cases of extremes, one’s redeeming the other’s. We are the dance that was lost to the wind on a midsummer’s night, the day of the black sun in norm’s year of light. We are the atrocity that befell civility, Mother Nature’s own sent to purge the earth.

Except, we were incomplete.


-If your mother is the reason we can’t be together, I can eliminate that barricade.

-Say yes, or I’ll tell your Dad things… Things that are not true, but things that’ll piss the living hell off of him. You know what he’s like when he’s pissed…

-I either live with you or I don’t live at all. Your choice.

The messages are running in her head, echoing against her skull mingled with her sobs. She is curled up in bed in the dark, her head thrust under a pillow trying to make it stop. Except, she can’t. This isn’t the first time and it definitely won’t be the last. They all want. They pay no mind to the pain. They have no care for the trauma. They. Just. Want.


The throbbing in her head intensifies to a level she didn’t believe could exist, as she remembers something she has studied extensively. The human mind when tortured or suppressed either creates a state of amnesia, suppressing certain memories as if they never happened at all, or splits their identity to allow a darker and stronger version of themselves to emerge who can survive the pain.

Someone who can defeat misery and contempt. Someone who can play everyone around them like pieces on a chess board.

Like everyone has been playing her. Even God.

She remembers the oppression by her own flesh and blood. She remembers the threats that blackmailed and controlled the little girl. She remembers the one who almost had her, and her near escape. She remembers the steel, the glass, the dagger and the face…

His own flesh… His own blood… And yet spilling his own as if it is of no consequence and watching in satisfaction at the closeness he gets at desecrating the incarnate creation of God’s deception of life marred by mortality.

Just a little girl. Topping every subject, beating all seekers. Yet never enough to satisfy, for there was a lot to be taken.

For time only halts when the atrocity is at its highest, to condemn the very flaws of the Divine.

She needs a monster to replace the little girl.


“Turn me”

I look at him horrified. I know he is not joking. He means it.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” I scream exasperated, trying to walk away from this conversation. He pulls me into his arms, holding me tight in his grip as to not let me escape.

“I watch you every month. I watch your body break and reform, over and over again. I watch you secretly beg for help while you shut me out. Your scream haunts my every dream and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. Nothing is worse than watching you suffer alone. Nothing.”

My body is stiff and unyielding and he does not miss that.


“Nothing is worth that pain”

“You are”

Another time, another day, is all I needed

Another heart, another soul was not the answer

Another part, another one, is all but heeded

Another life, another love killed this cancer



A/N - Hey all! Once again, thank you for reading! Please do let me know what you think, even if it's a complaint. I'm planning on writing more of these in the future and it'll really help me :D

 Cuphea is a school. It will be features in my future stories. 

 Also, the quote in the chapter summary "I'm not saying everything is survivable. I'm saying everything but the last thing is" was given for the John Green quote challenge. this story's theme is this. It's from John green's Paper Towns.

All other quotes and verses within the story are mine :)

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