- Messages
- 7,229
- OOC First Name
- Liv
- Blood Status
- Pure Blood
- Relationship Status
- Divorced
- Wand
- Tulip Wood Wand with Unicorn Hair Core
What is they say about coping? Take one day at a time. Don't bite off more than you can chew. It can only get better from here. The willowy blonde stood on the edge of the cliffs and looked down over the land that for now she called home. A bitter laugh escaped her throat. Her slim fingers shook, balled into fists. Laughter turned to tears until wetness slid down her cheeks and a stubborn drop made its way down her straight, slightly tip tilted nose. The tears were cleansing yet bogged down at her spirit.
Every day she took it one step at a time. The shakes lessened, the night sweats and dry taste of fear tapered and all but disappeared in the morning light. It wasn't enough. She wanted a drink. Feel that harsh, burning liquid freeze her taste buds, sear down her throat and drop like an anvil into her stomach. She wanted the blissful, weightless feeling that came after. Where moments blurred into each other and she could cope with her nightmares and the stress of her job.
She'd nearly drank last night. The temptation was there as was the bottle she'd forgotten she'd stashed. Cold hard glass clenched with a death grip in her hands until it hurt. Bliss. Oblivion. It was there, right inside green glass in a fat bellied bottle. Muscles strained. Glass exploded and shattered. Liquid stained the stone walls a dark slate grey.
She'd left the mess. Walked away from it as though it wasn't there. She would leave it as a reminder until the house elfs cleaned it. A reminder of her weakness. Of the dark, terrible path she walked a tightrope across. Any moment she would fall, as she could so easily fall from these cliffs.
Every day she took it one step at a time. The shakes lessened, the night sweats and dry taste of fear tapered and all but disappeared in the morning light. It wasn't enough. She wanted a drink. Feel that harsh, burning liquid freeze her taste buds, sear down her throat and drop like an anvil into her stomach. She wanted the blissful, weightless feeling that came after. Where moments blurred into each other and she could cope with her nightmares and the stress of her job.
She'd nearly drank last night. The temptation was there as was the bottle she'd forgotten she'd stashed. Cold hard glass clenched with a death grip in her hands until it hurt. Bliss. Oblivion. It was there, right inside green glass in a fat bellied bottle. Muscles strained. Glass exploded and shattered. Liquid stained the stone walls a dark slate grey.
She'd left the mess. Walked away from it as though it wasn't there. She would leave it as a reminder until the house elfs cleaned it. A reminder of her weakness. Of the dark, terrible path she walked a tightrope across. Any moment she would fall, as she could so easily fall from these cliffs.