InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I don't really have bad ideas."

This was the same bed she'd been in during winter holiday. She remembered that. As the days wore on she could remember a lot more than she had when those third years had found her three weeks ago. In fact she was quite certain she could remember most of what had happened...and why she was there. Well, she could remember most of the events that led to her being there. She still couldn't exactly explain who had caused the scars and gashes on her body or the how. But...she wasn't stupid. She knew they were there because of the attempt at escape.

She could remember the April day she and Wayne had plotted it. As if it were yesterday. But it wasn't. That was a long time ago and....the days were getting longer.

Megan Jones had practically been moved into the school infirmary as was her little brother who hadn't spoken since he'd woken up three days after Megan - who'd been unconscious for five. The bruises around his neck were still there and all he seemed to want to do was sleep or stare blankly out the window from his or her bed. Megan had spent a number of her hours awake holding and stroking Christopher's hair in silence or humming to him to calm his night terrors. It was a lonely place, despite the familiar company laying next to her. Lonelier more so now than before.

Megan hadn't been much for talking anyway. In fact she'd refused visitors who weren't immediate family. The obvious defeat was ... to embarrassing still to have to talk about it. Her eldest brother, Nathaniel, had taken the liberty of claiming her belongings from the girl's dorms and bringing them to the infirmary around the same time she'd reappeared randomly on the grounds. It took her until yesterday to got through her trunk - finding her journal. She didn't write in it right away - however. She spent most of yesterday reading through everyone else's journal entries...making note not to respond to anyone.

Her right fingers were still stiff from their being twisted and broken one by one so it was nearly impossible to write legible handwriting. But she could manage elementary lines in their best of forms. For the sake of self amusement she attempted a game of tic-tac-toe while Christopher slept. When Eloise responded...it took her a few minutes to decide to write a response. But she did. And as she did someone seemed to enter the infirmary. At first she thought it was Pomfrey returning from her "faculty meeting" but....it didn't take long to realize it wasn't.

Megan couldn't see around the privacy curtain blocking her bed from the door. But she could hear the slow creek of the entrance and the slow footsteps approaching in an unfamiliar way. They weren't Madam Promfrey's determined stride, nor were they eager steps in search of the school nurse for aid. And the usual sound of her name being called by family...didn't happen. The lack of a visual and the unfamiliar footsteps... made her nervous. Her heart raced and her muscles tensed. The quill she'd been holding was gripped with the intention of wielding a weapon if necessary. Her throat was tight even more than it already was and she couldn't call out an inquiry. Instead her lip quivered slightly and she held back terrified tears.