Post by Dylan Caoimhe on Jan 2, 2010 7:39:27 GMT
It felt as if there were no air, and that he needed to get out of this house so that he could breathe. He didn't care about his jacket; they could have the damn thing for all he was concerned. He went straight to the front door, and fumbled to undo the lock and open it because his hands were shaking. But once he got it open, he slammed it shut behind him as he marched down the stone steps that led to the road. It was raining, and considering it was winter, the air was surprisingly warm, but also heavy, and the rain itself was bitterly chilling. Dylan was thankful. He could feel himself crying, but the rain was a perfect cover, and he could already feel his face start to get cold from the water; if anything, he wished that he did freeze; it would numb him, and that was all he had wanted to be at the moment. He wouldn't care; he would just walk and not allow his mind the pleasure or the pain of going over what he had just found out. He could feel himself subconsciously making connections and coming up with sequences of events, but he just shook his head and kept walking, fresh tears continuously reforming in his eyes.
He felt lied to.......tricked, or suckered into going there for dinner, but he knew he shouldn't. No one except Annabelle and Sarah knew what was really going on, and neither of them had apparently known that he would even be over to their house. But, in some weird way, Dylan was almost okay with the fact that everything had happened. Because if it hadn't, then would Sarah have even came back and said anything to him? She obviously knew from the moment when she had met him at the Leaky Cauldron..........and that made Dylan that much angrier. No matter what manner everything had happened tonight, that woman's mother was right about one thing; Sarah was a damn coward. This whole thing could have happened so differently, it could have been handled so much easier......but instead, a family was now recked.........his family........
He couldn't hold it in anymore. Dylan fell to the ground in the middle of the road and let out a terrible yell, and put as much emotion as he felt, and as much power into it as he possibly could. He slammed his fists into the wet pavement, and pain shot up both of his arms, sending what felt like electric waves to the very top of his head.
"Young man, you alright there?!"
Dylan didn't look up. More tears came, and he raised his hands and painfully balled them into fists again, poised to slam them down onto the road as hard as he could once more, but he found himself frozen and unable to move.
"Calm down, son! You do that again and you'll hurt yourself!" Whoever it was was now standing in front of him, and Dylan didn't need to even be able to look up to tell that it was an elderly man, and apparently, he was a wizard. Dylan was immobile, and now, he could feel every tear that fell rapidly from both of his eyes and rolled down his face. The elderly man knelt down, surveying Dylan trying to identify him. When he realized he couldn't, it didn't replace the look of pure sympathy that etched itself across his face when he realized that Dylan was crying. Every part of him wanted to spit in the man's face; he didn't need his pity. But then, he was grateful that he couldn't follow through with his urge; the man had done absolutely nothing to him.
"Now I'm going to remove my charm now, sonny. Don't you go actin' all crazy on me. I see......I see you've had rough night, and mine isn't going so hot either." He waved his wand, and Dylan fell over onto his back, unable to regain his balance once the man had broken his charm. But truthfully, Dylan didn't try. He had allowed himself to fall. He involuntarily let out a moan, and lifted his hands to examine them. he had blood trailing down both of his disfigured pinkys and down his forearms, and his ring finger on his right hand was broken also, from the looks of it. But Dylan almost reveled in it, like this was better than what he knew he would feel eventually. "You need to go to St. Mungo's."
"No. Just......just leave me alone old man, alright." Dylan's voice shook with repressed sobs as he spoke, and he hated himself.
"My name is Harold, and I can't do that." The man paused, and seemed to sense what Dylan was feeling. "No need to be embarassed......or ashamed, sonny. I've done plenty of cryin' in my day-"
"I don't care!" Dylan's voice reverberated into into the night, as if it bounced from raindrop to raindrop. Suddenly, he found himself frozen again.
"Look here. My car is right there. You have two choices. You can get up and walk, or I can charm you over there. Your pick." He broke the charm again, but Dylan didn't move. He just laid there. The night was quiet, and the rain fell so abundantly that Dylan wasn't able to open his eyes. He just wanted to lay there, and let the cold water run over his already soaked body. Tears still fell, and he couldn't stop them. He heard the man sigh.
"Your choice."
He was now laying in a hospital bed, staring up at the white light that hung over him. Dylan had broken three of his fingers and his left wrist; he was now all bandaged up and in assorted casts, and he was only still sitting there because he was told to wait, giving his mind plenty of time to wander.
He wanted to not believe it. He wanted to say that that woman was just a crazy, bitter, old drunken git. But, he knew all too well that she wasn't drunk at all; if she had been, then that whole thing probably would have been so much worse than what it was. And, Sarah didn't say otherwise about anything that was said, did she? That whole entire time, she didn't utter a word.
So that was it. He now knew exactly what had happened. Sarah had unexpectedly got pregnant with him, got scared and thought her boyfriend.....his father, would leave her. So she made up a lie. She told him her aunt was sick and that she needed to go take care of her when she got to the point where she couldn't hide her pregnancy any longer. Then, she went to stay at her mother's house, and agreed that she could help her deliver, but when the day came, she ran away.....or tried to. And this was where Dylan could piece in the story that Alanah had told him. Sarah had ran out onto the beach, where she collapsed and started calling for help........Alanah heard her and came running to her aid. She gave birth to Dylan by the ocean, and then Alanah called the local hospital, and then they were picked up and carried away. Couple days later, Sarah had shown up on the doorstep of the orphanage with her baby in her arms.......and that was that. She just left him there.
"You alright now?"
Dylan turned to look at Harold, who had just sat down in a chair beside his bed. He really didn't need this right now. All he wanted was to be left alone.......he needed to just sit and think to himself. "Look,-"
Harold held up a hand. "They want you to stay over night so they can make sure that your bones mend properly. I have already payed for your expenses, so in the morning when their done with you, your free to go." Now that he could actually see the man, Dylan thought that he reminded him a little bit of Dumbledore, except Harold was much shorter, didn't have half as much hair as his former Headmaster, and his blue eyes were nowhere near as intense. But, he had that very same aura about him. "You don't have to pay me back."
Dylan sighed, and turned to look at the wall to his other side. His eyes were puffy and swollen; he could feel it. His hands and wrist were slightly painful; the skele-grow was doing it's job. It was almost as if he wasn't there. His body was there, in the hospital beside some strange man that he didn't even know, but his mind felt as if it were light years away in some other galaxy or something. As angry as he was, he couldn't help but feel some deep sense of satisfaction.
He now knew what his parents looked like. He often wondered about them, though he would probably have never admitted it. He kept picturing Sarah in his mind, and couldn't help but think how beautiful she was. And Ptah; Dylan had definitely inherited his eyes, his looks, and probably everything else from his father. But then, Dylan realized something else; he now had a little brother. Williard was his little brother. For some reason, Dylan laughed, but then tears quickly came back and filled his eyes.
"You must've had one hell of a night," Harold said sighing. "I haven't seen anyone go through this many mood changes since my wi-" Harold had stopped talking, but Dylan didn't really care because he was only really half listening. He turned his head and looked at Harold who was looking down at his feet. He was intending to politely tell him off, but Harold looked as if he were ready to cry himself. He looked up at Dylan and sat up a little straighter in his seat. "Look, I don't want you to think I'm some weird old man," he said with a chuckle. "Tonight was easily one of the worst nights of my life, and believe you me, that's saying something." He put his hat back on his head. "I saw.....well......heard you out in the street, and......I don't know. I figured if I could help someone who was clearly having a worse night than I had myself........" he trailed off, and then stood up suddenly. "I don't know what's going on with you tonight, but whatever it is......." How can you possibly hope to give any kind of words of encouragement on a situation you know nothing about, Dylan thought. Harold must have realized the same thing because he nodded at Dylan, and then left the room. A very small part of him had thought to say thank you, but quite honestly, he didn't really care to.
He just looked back up at the hanging white light, and let his entire body relax for the first time in a long time. All of this was just so unbelievable. And yet, Dylan accepted it. He wasn't one to deny reality, and the reality was, he now knew who his family was. What would happen from here, he didn't know. He couldn't say or even try to predict how he would handle everything. But, it didn't matter. Nothing seemed to, and in that moment, Dylan remembered that the nurse had also given him a sleeping potion that was apparently taking effect. One last tear slid down the side of his face before his eyes closed, and he drifted off.
He felt lied to.......tricked, or suckered into going there for dinner, but he knew he shouldn't. No one except Annabelle and Sarah knew what was really going on, and neither of them had apparently known that he would even be over to their house. But, in some weird way, Dylan was almost okay with the fact that everything had happened. Because if it hadn't, then would Sarah have even came back and said anything to him? She obviously knew from the moment when she had met him at the Leaky Cauldron..........and that made Dylan that much angrier. No matter what manner everything had happened tonight, that woman's mother was right about one thing; Sarah was a damn coward. This whole thing could have happened so differently, it could have been handled so much easier......but instead, a family was now recked.........his family........
He couldn't hold it in anymore. Dylan fell to the ground in the middle of the road and let out a terrible yell, and put as much emotion as he felt, and as much power into it as he possibly could. He slammed his fists into the wet pavement, and pain shot up both of his arms, sending what felt like electric waves to the very top of his head.
"Young man, you alright there?!"
Dylan didn't look up. More tears came, and he raised his hands and painfully balled them into fists again, poised to slam them down onto the road as hard as he could once more, but he found himself frozen and unable to move.
"Calm down, son! You do that again and you'll hurt yourself!" Whoever it was was now standing in front of him, and Dylan didn't need to even be able to look up to tell that it was an elderly man, and apparently, he was a wizard. Dylan was immobile, and now, he could feel every tear that fell rapidly from both of his eyes and rolled down his face. The elderly man knelt down, surveying Dylan trying to identify him. When he realized he couldn't, it didn't replace the look of pure sympathy that etched itself across his face when he realized that Dylan was crying. Every part of him wanted to spit in the man's face; he didn't need his pity. But then, he was grateful that he couldn't follow through with his urge; the man had done absolutely nothing to him.
"Now I'm going to remove my charm now, sonny. Don't you go actin' all crazy on me. I see......I see you've had rough night, and mine isn't going so hot either." He waved his wand, and Dylan fell over onto his back, unable to regain his balance once the man had broken his charm. But truthfully, Dylan didn't try. He had allowed himself to fall. He involuntarily let out a moan, and lifted his hands to examine them. he had blood trailing down both of his disfigured pinkys and down his forearms, and his ring finger on his right hand was broken also, from the looks of it. But Dylan almost reveled in it, like this was better than what he knew he would feel eventually. "You need to go to St. Mungo's."
"No. Just......just leave me alone old man, alright." Dylan's voice shook with repressed sobs as he spoke, and he hated himself.
"My name is Harold, and I can't do that." The man paused, and seemed to sense what Dylan was feeling. "No need to be embarassed......or ashamed, sonny. I've done plenty of cryin' in my day-"
"I don't care!" Dylan's voice reverberated into into the night, as if it bounced from raindrop to raindrop. Suddenly, he found himself frozen again.
"Look here. My car is right there. You have two choices. You can get up and walk, or I can charm you over there. Your pick." He broke the charm again, but Dylan didn't move. He just laid there. The night was quiet, and the rain fell so abundantly that Dylan wasn't able to open his eyes. He just wanted to lay there, and let the cold water run over his already soaked body. Tears still fell, and he couldn't stop them. He heard the man sigh.
"Your choice."
~*~*~*~*~
He was now laying in a hospital bed, staring up at the white light that hung over him. Dylan had broken three of his fingers and his left wrist; he was now all bandaged up and in assorted casts, and he was only still sitting there because he was told to wait, giving his mind plenty of time to wander.
He wanted to not believe it. He wanted to say that that woman was just a crazy, bitter, old drunken git. But, he knew all too well that she wasn't drunk at all; if she had been, then that whole thing probably would have been so much worse than what it was. And, Sarah didn't say otherwise about anything that was said, did she? That whole entire time, she didn't utter a word.
So that was it. He now knew exactly what had happened. Sarah had unexpectedly got pregnant with him, got scared and thought her boyfriend.....his father, would leave her. So she made up a lie. She told him her aunt was sick and that she needed to go take care of her when she got to the point where she couldn't hide her pregnancy any longer. Then, she went to stay at her mother's house, and agreed that she could help her deliver, but when the day came, she ran away.....or tried to. And this was where Dylan could piece in the story that Alanah had told him. Sarah had ran out onto the beach, where she collapsed and started calling for help........Alanah heard her and came running to her aid. She gave birth to Dylan by the ocean, and then Alanah called the local hospital, and then they were picked up and carried away. Couple days later, Sarah had shown up on the doorstep of the orphanage with her baby in her arms.......and that was that. She just left him there.
"You alright now?"
Dylan turned to look at Harold, who had just sat down in a chair beside his bed. He really didn't need this right now. All he wanted was to be left alone.......he needed to just sit and think to himself. "Look,-"
Harold held up a hand. "They want you to stay over night so they can make sure that your bones mend properly. I have already payed for your expenses, so in the morning when their done with you, your free to go." Now that he could actually see the man, Dylan thought that he reminded him a little bit of Dumbledore, except Harold was much shorter, didn't have half as much hair as his former Headmaster, and his blue eyes were nowhere near as intense. But, he had that very same aura about him. "You don't have to pay me back."
Dylan sighed, and turned to look at the wall to his other side. His eyes were puffy and swollen; he could feel it. His hands and wrist were slightly painful; the skele-grow was doing it's job. It was almost as if he wasn't there. His body was there, in the hospital beside some strange man that he didn't even know, but his mind felt as if it were light years away in some other galaxy or something. As angry as he was, he couldn't help but feel some deep sense of satisfaction.
He now knew what his parents looked like. He often wondered about them, though he would probably have never admitted it. He kept picturing Sarah in his mind, and couldn't help but think how beautiful she was. And Ptah; Dylan had definitely inherited his eyes, his looks, and probably everything else from his father. But then, Dylan realized something else; he now had a little brother. Williard was his little brother. For some reason, Dylan laughed, but then tears quickly came back and filled his eyes.
"You must've had one hell of a night," Harold said sighing. "I haven't seen anyone go through this many mood changes since my wi-" Harold had stopped talking, but Dylan didn't really care because he was only really half listening. He turned his head and looked at Harold who was looking down at his feet. He was intending to politely tell him off, but Harold looked as if he were ready to cry himself. He looked up at Dylan and sat up a little straighter in his seat. "Look, I don't want you to think I'm some weird old man," he said with a chuckle. "Tonight was easily one of the worst nights of my life, and believe you me, that's saying something." He put his hat back on his head. "I saw.....well......heard you out in the street, and......I don't know. I figured if I could help someone who was clearly having a worse night than I had myself........" he trailed off, and then stood up suddenly. "I don't know what's going on with you tonight, but whatever it is......." How can you possibly hope to give any kind of words of encouragement on a situation you know nothing about, Dylan thought. Harold must have realized the same thing because he nodded at Dylan, and then left the room. A very small part of him had thought to say thank you, but quite honestly, he didn't really care to.
He just looked back up at the hanging white light, and let his entire body relax for the first time in a long time. All of this was just so unbelievable. And yet, Dylan accepted it. He wasn't one to deny reality, and the reality was, he now knew who his family was. What would happen from here, he didn't know. He couldn't say or even try to predict how he would handle everything. But, it didn't matter. Nothing seemed to, and in that moment, Dylan remembered that the nurse had also given him a sleeping potion that was apparently taking effect. One last tear slid down the side of his face before his eyes closed, and he drifted off.
