Dean Thomas (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} artistdean) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} finnigans_rpg, |
"I play that night over and over in my mind when I'm awake and when I'm asleep. I hear the voice of Voldemort in my head demanding my friend sacrifice himself, I see the faces of people I knew blank of life, killed for what they believed. I can't go into crowds any more. I can't go to a quidditch match or a football match. I hex anyone that comes up behind me and touches me. I take potions every day because I had to fight a war before the muggle world would call me an adult and it changed everything. Some nights I can't sleep and I bake, and some nights I wake up because I think I'm back there again and I paint everything I saw, everything I dreamed and it doesn't help. Some nights I take a potion to make me sleep and I feel numb. I burn candles to remind me I'm not where I was in my dreams. I swim to exhaust my body and my mind." He was crying now, sucking in snotty breaths.
"And this is my better. To start with I was worse. I couldn't sleep without screaming, I couldn't eat without feeling sick, I felt angry or I felt numb. I don't know who I was before the war because fuck knows I wasn't this. I didn't dream about a man sacrificing himself for my life, or house elves with knives sticking out of them, or the screams of my friends being tortured and killed. I didn't see dead bodies in my dreams, or have werewolves chase me in my nightmares. But I cope because I have to, and I cope because I've had help and had distance, and worked out all the things I shouldn't do because of what they'll do to me. It's not perfect, but when you've seen the magical new world you discovered at eleven literally fall apart around you I don't think it ever will be again." He sat down and buried his face in his hands, crying. He wanted to go, wanted to leave and get away but he couldn't move any more, his body racked with sobs.