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His head was spinning, but in a pleasant sort of way. Perhaps, if he was in his right mind at the moment, this feeling might frighten him, but he's too preoccupied by the warming sensation slowing filling up his being. He looks at his hand, at his fingers clutching the smooth, cool bottle with its golden contents sloshing around as he staggered into a corner, attempting not to spill it. He finally found a wall to lean on, and slid down contentedly, coming to a stop finally against the baseboard of the wall that may have been in a hallway (but he wasn't sure), looking at the wall opposite him and wishing vaguely that a certain familiar face was sat there, looking back at him.
"Why do I need their approval?"
I know that's the mindset I need to have; I remind myself nearly constantly. But even as I'm thinking those words, I'm wondering what they would think of me for it. I hate that I constantly think like this, and that I've never been able to stop.
One thing fuses to another. Attracted like magnets, they are at first, but eventually they become the other and the other becomes them. Fused together, for better or worse. Is it better to be fused to another, or to remain alone, in your original state?
Well, isn't this the icing on the cake. Just perfect. All that hard work, down the drain. And for what? A stupid little get together? He sighed, a smiled a bit. Maybe it wasn't so bad. He still had his friends, after all.
He had followed the instructions to the letter, yet here he was, watching everything fall apart right in front of him. He felt the waves of terror rising within him, accompanied by shame. People often complemented on his cleverness, yet he had walked right into a (rather obvious, now) trap. He stood cowering in the corner as they closed in on him. His friends had either fled or were being restrained by one of the many angry faces towering over him. He inhaled deeply. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, and pushed back the tears threatening to come. There was no way he was getting out of this, it was going to happen. Perhaps he even deserved it. He didn't know, he just hoped it would be over quickly.
The framework was almost up for our new home. Winter was coming and we wouldn't be able to survive in that cave. Not to mention that Mother was getting on up there in age and the cold could kill her. It was hard work, with only Drakuru and I working on it. Drakuru seemed to have all the strength of a carthorse. Especially compared to me. To be honest, there wasn't much I could do, as I couldn't life the logs, but he seemed to enjoy my company.
I was bitten... Was I bitten? By what? I can feel the toxin seeping through my veins, scorching tissues as it spread. I can feel the prick of two needle-like fangs inside my skin. My head is foggy. Seconds stretch into minutes stretch into hours. I decide to look down; maybe I'll have a chance if I can get rid of the snake. I look down to see, not a snake, but my own hand. Holding a needle to my skin. What have I done?
I pulled my hood up in an attempt to shield myself from the rain. It must be nearly three a.m. by now. It' been a long night, and it's not over yet.
Sometimes, I get so angry, I can do nothing but turn on the TV and flip through channels. It's not because I enjoy television; I hate it, in fact. I simply do not trust myself to speak at those moments.
I've always wanted to go to Hogwarts. To sit in charms class and learn about wand movements and such. It would be much better than learning about the American Industrial Revolution, at any rate.
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