c o n trol ((open))

[weaslebee2]

Emily pressed herself into the corner of the room, so fervently that one might think that she wanted to melt into the cold, stone wall. It was late, the last time she had seen a clock it proclaimed that it was two in the morning. Sleep was far from Emily's grasp then. If she would so much as close her eyes then the nightmares would come back. She thought of the last person she had actually interacted with. Raychel. That was how long ago? Emily couldn't remember. She yanked up her sleeves and examined her forearms.

There were several old scars from the holidays, and a few newer scabs. From her pocket she pulled a small blade. Emily used it to cut deeply into her forearm, letting the blood flow freely. She didn't have control anymore, the only things she felt were under her command happened to be cutting and practically starving herself. She had lost three and a half kilograms since the nightmares had come back, and cut herself more times that she could count. She released a stuttering sigh, and then placed her blade back into her pocket.

She watched herself bleed for a long while, it slowed gradually. Emily jumped when someone tried the knob (which she had forgotten to lock). She quickly rolled down her sleeves, hiding her self-inflicted wounds, praying with every fiber of her being that it wasn't Gabriella or Isaac on the other side of the squeaky door.

[broadway]

It was Raychel. She dimmly saw Emily hiding in the corner. "Emily?" She asked, slightly confused. She caught the dimmed wiff of blood, ans she immediately realized what had happened. She said nothing, only approached slowly, catiously.

[weaslebee2]

"Y-Yes?" Emily asked quietly, glad that it was only Raychel, someone she knew that wasn't a vampire. But still, she had cut herself pretty deeply, and to a sensitive nose, even that belonging to a human, one might be able to smell blood. There was a broken mirror on the other side of the room, from her distorted reflection, she could see she was abnormally pale.

[broadway]

Raychel took one more step forward, causing Emily's form to become more pronounced. The smell of blood was even more powerful. She placed her hands on her hips, resuming a motherly stance. "Emily, please come here." She replied softly. True, it was kind of a command, but it didn't sound as such. She calmly waited for Emily ro come to her. No doubt the cut was deep.

[weaslebee2]

Emily stood, feeling uneasiness in the pit of her stomach, it was a sensation quite familiar to her. However, she didn't step forward, she was wary, no doubt if Raychel found out she was cutting that she wouldn't keep it a secret. No, she wasn't suicidal, nowhere near it, but Emily needed to hurt herself, and now that she had started up again, there wasn't any stopping, regardless of how hard she tried. "Why?" asked Emily.

[broadway]

Raychel remained still. She slowly took out her wand from her robe pocket. "Because," she began, her voice calm and steady. "I don't need you bleeding out on the floor." she replied, gesturing with her wand to the small pool of blood behind Emily. "Now, please, if you would. Let me fix the arm." she finished, with just as much self control as she had at the beginning. Raychel, yes, was not a big fan of blood, but she was going to have to get used to it. She knew Emily was cutting herself, but the severity was yet to be known.

[weaslebee2]

Emily was reluctant, she couldn't reveal the most recent cut without showing off countless others, and then she would be sure to be landed in therapy again, and the sessions her mother had forced her into had done more harm than good. But Raychel knew, and she was bound to tell a teacher. "It will heal on its own," said Emily, grasping the area of the wound with her other hand.

[broadway]

"Yes, crooked, and scarred." She replied calmly. Raychel held her hand out to Emily. She briefly sifted through her mind, long enough to see Emily's fear. "I won't tell. On my honor." She replied. She meant it, it would be their secret. "I mean it Em. Now, please, give me the arm."

[weaslebee2]

"N-No," said Emily, stepping backward as far as possible in the corner. "I want it to scar," The scars already on her arms would never go away, even with magic. In a way, she was almost proud of them, like the word "BROKEN" that she had carved deeply into her stomach. The letters were thick and well-formed, almost like a tattoo except in scars.

[broadway]

"You're being riduculous, but fine." Raychel replied. Before Emily could respond, Raychel cast a nonverbal spell. The blood flow slowed and eventually stopped, leaving Em's oh so precious scar behind. Even from here Raychel could see it, jagged and ugly. She put her wand away silently. She relaxed her stance, lowering her arms.

[weaslebee2]

Emily watched as the skin mended itself, the only hint that a cut had been there was the scar and the blood left on her arm. "I didn't ask for that," said Emily. She would have much rather Raychel didn't intervene at all, left her wound alone to scar. Nobody understood her fixation with cutting, Emily needed to see the wounds she made of her own accord heal over time.

[broadway]

"Well, I did it. Consider it a gift." Raychel replied. She was getting frustrated with Emily, but she wasn't going to give up. "Sorry." She finally said, sighing. "I'll just leave." She finished, turning to leave.

[weaslebee2]

Emily didn't try to stop Raychel, although she needed the support of another just then, but wasn't about to ask for it. She wanted to be alone, as soon as she was certain she was gone, Emily would resume hurting herself in privacy. If there was one thing Emily hated about Hogwarts was that nothing was sacred, there was seldom a room one could have all to oneself, even for ten minutes.