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Agnes Beaumont
Adult
Agnes Beaumont

Posts : 217
Join date : 2014-09-10
Age : 23

My Character
::
Activity: Gryffindor Alumni, Photographer, Daily Prophet Journalist

Unexpected (Closed) Empty
PostSubject: Unexpected (Closed)   Unexpected (Closed) EmptyThu Mar 05, 2015 6:44 pm

There was pain. Much more than a thousand papers making small cuts all over your skin. Much more than stubbing your toe, much more than falling on your rear. The pain was unbearable. It was like every bone in her body was snapping in half, every single one. It came and went, in shots of pure misery, almost jokingly. Her toothbrush fell on the sink, her eyes wide as she realized she'd used the toilet not to long ago, barely minutes before. And now, there were painful strokes all over her body. Was this it? Letting out what sounded like a screeching sound, Agnes saw her mother run into the bathroom in an instant, Ansel following close behind. In a matter of seconds, she was in her brother's arms, holding on to him like something was pushing her body in between two stone pillars and he was the only one who could save her. No, this couldn't be it. It wasn't supposed to happen so soon. She'd read book about this, she still had a few days left!

There was no sound. She saw her mother, running behind them, down the steps of their home, her lips moving, forming shapes Agnes didn't recognize. But no voice came out of her mouth. There were cars passing by, people in windows conversing over dinner, a door shutting and another one opening, but Agnes didn't hear it. She no longer heard her thoughts, everything was blurred, close to silent static, the kind you know is there but that is too surreal to make sense. Everything was crumbling like powder, her fingers dug into the leather seat of a car she didn't recognize, a car she didn't remember getting into. If this was it, she would rather keep him in until he was 18. This was hell, if hell was even a real thing. The cars around were like blurred blobs of light, streaks of neon in the middle of the night. No, Agnes didn't want this.

She never wanted a kid in the first place. She didn't want it. At some point she had accepted it, taken in the responsability, but now she wanted it gone. What was this?! Agnes cursed Hunter, and that was the only thing she knew she had truly said out loud, as her mother turned to look at her in disbelief. They didn't know Hunter, but she was sure she had made up a different name, a fictonal father, a make-believe act. Because, that was all this kid was, born out of lonely thoughts and broken hearts, a chapter in a fiction Agnes had created so skillfully, but that had crumbled in a single second. Ansel's eyes met hers through the rearview mirror, they were green. Green, like summer grass on bare feet. Green, like apples in midday when the light of the sun hit them just right. Green, like her father's.

Tears blurring her vision, Agnes lost track of Ansel's presence, only knowing her mother was next to her thanks to the squeeze of her hand. If there was one moment, where Agnes had not honored her mother, she regretted it greatly. Had Agnes been in her mother's place, she'd made her daughter take care of her stupidity by herself. But, no. Her mother, though she had cried for days after finding out, and though Agnes could see the disappointment in her eyes, clear as could be, was sitting next to her, holding her hand. At that moment, when an eel of sharp pain shot up her spine, Agnes was being carried again. Carried through bright lights that burned her eyes, through young women with their hair up in buns and through the barely audible voice of her brother's demands. Every song she had ever heard, every lyrics, was playing like an infinite record in her head, Agnes' own method of dealing with the pain.

"Put her down, sir." she heard a soft whisper, calm and soothing, as if taming down an animal. In a matter of seconds, Agnes was sitting down on something, magically moving through halls full of sick people and melancholy faces. Magic. What a shit word. The whole reason she had attended Hogwarts. The reason she'd even met Hunter. Agnes was a witch. But witches were fierce. Witches were strong. Agnes wasn't a witch. Doors, people, feet, crying. A hand on her shoulder, a young woman's smile, a bed made of stone. One last door, less people, no more feet, endless crying. The woman with the smile, with blonde curly hajr that hung down in a ponytail, with bright blue eyes and freckles on her cheeks, shoved a potion down Agnes's mouth. It was like fire, burning deep into her veins, almost icy. But then, it became something like a summer day spent at the beach. Like, a calm and silent galaxy taking its place inside her body.

The next few moments were in fast forward, the pain was no longer a guest, but the thoughts that Agnes could now hear were not making sense. Are bears related to trolls? What had happened to Aislinn? Are dolphins allergic to tuna? Is that cannibalism? What about boiling water, is that really just water that refuses to evaporate? Are Ansel and that one girl still together? What are donkeys scared of? Could I grow my hair out to the floor? Can marionettes be made of recycled stuff? Can trees float? Yes, wood floats. Trees must float. Duh. Wait, is there a spell for tyurning myself into a mango? I want to be a mango. Are you speaking Japanese? I can't drink in Canada yet. I think. I can drink in Germany, though. Have you noticed the windows are bright? There's something yellow coming up my window. Is Alek still in London? Can you tell me a joke? No, I'll tell you one. What is a green and Mexican? You don't know? An avocado! That hurts, but it feels funny. Like, a pinching kind of pain. Wait, no. I don't feel anything anymore. What are you doing? Is that....? A baby...?

_________________
AGNES MARIE BEAUMONT
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