Watching Her

FAIR WARNINGS- this is angsty stuff. Self-harm, possibly implied suicide and/or rape at points. (Depending on how you chose to look at it) Generally unpleasant themes… I don’t think I could have written it any other way. If you can’t deal with (and I mean that in a totally non-sarcastic manner) being somewhat…affected…(as I hope I’ve written this well enough to be affecting, if I haven’t someone should tell me!) I strongly urge you to stop reading now. The last thing I want to do is upset anyone.

***Seva***

Chapter 2

‘No I can’t forget tomorrow,
when I think of all my sorrow,
when I had you there, but then I let you go.
So now it’s only fair that I should let you know…’

I am without. Without her, an outsider, a spectator upon what life could have been for me, and what it could never have been. There is much that is beyond the realm of possibility. A love that is anything other than destructive and unrequited. A sense of belonging.

I can blame no one but myself. For who would desire my stifling, claustrophobic adoration? The type of love that has four walls, growing ever closer. Suffocating.

I cannot help but remember the time when she did. Did she? How could she have loved me? She did. She was mine, and I was hers. Yet at the same time, memory and fantasy become blurred, reality and falsehood indistinct from one another.

The way we loved…How could that be love?

She was a child. 17. A stupid adolescent crush. No. It was not like that. A meeting of minds. The way we talked.

The world was ours. Every night she came to me, and every night I slept alone. This was no affair. A gifted student conversing with a teacher, a strange kind of friendship between outcasts.

There was something more. This was not some sick manipulation of power, but an unspoken connection. Pure. Perfect. I knew it was there. Before I destroyed it.

That night. Apart, and alone. Without her. But it was different in those days. I still had the promise of her love. I had missed her. Missed her so much. She came to me. She gave me what was rapidly becoming my only reason for living. She wanted to see me. My company made her happy.

But this night was different. She was crying. Even red-faced and ravaged by grief she was beautiful. And then she told me. Told me her most horrific, most guilty secret.

A party. Muggles, of course. She was at home then. Home.Her home should be with me. She should be with me. Home in the muggle world I mean. Alcohol. A boy…this was a boy. No man. A boy, with a sly smile. His kisses intoxicating, his fingers so persuasive.

She didn’t mean for it to happen…. She didn’t know…she couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t stop herself. It happened. She didn’t want him.

She wanted me. Me. She loved me. She was mine. Mine alone. Not his. Mine. Whose words were these? Something tells me all that was mine was my own imagination.

Truth eludes me.

I wanted to hold her in my arms. Wanted to gather up every piece of her and hold her and protect her. To destroy him. Destroy the world that was not us. Of course I did not. My words echoed in my mind even then, as if they were not my own. They were not.

How could I hurt her? She was…is…the love of my life. I hear myself as clearly as I did that day. Each hateful, mocking syllable. I see my own impassive sneer. I am not this monster.

Oh but you are, Severus. That’s the kind of man you are. You still are.

She was gone in a second. Was I hers? Her only source of comfort? Did she love me as I loved her? She was mine. She trusted me.

The world was spinning. Retching painfully, my eyes burning with…tears? How could this be? I was crying. Severus Snape does not cry. But I did. I cried for her, but mostly for myself. Selfish as ever, every tear that fell driving me further into my frenzy of self-loathing.

Loathsome. Unlovable. Unworthy. Severus.

It is such times as these, such painful reflections, at which I most despise myself. Unprompted, a thousand images of her come to my mind. I watch her laughing, smiling, pouting. I see the look of concentration as she works, teeth scraping her lower lip. Her face, tear stained now, desperate. The look of hatred. I sometimes long for her to look at me like that again. With passion.

It will never happen.

I’ve been living to see her for so long. Too long she has been the only passion in my life. Destructive love. I cried then…I cannot cry any more. Boys don’t cry. Men. I am a man. A pathetic, broken shadow of a man, but a man.

I hate her so much for leaving me…I love her endlessly. I wish I could hurt her like she hurt me, but more than anything I want this numbness to end. I want to know if I still feel. *

A knife. A blade. So sharp…so beautiful. No magic. There is no spell I could defile in this way, no spell to bring me to life, and certainly no spell to bring her into my life.

A clenched fist, a shiver. Tensed. A flash of silver, and a hiss of breath. Release.

A pain I can feel. Real. An emotion I can understand. Control. A pause, then a trickling red stream. This is not enough. I need more. I tear at my own flesh, begging it to bleed, begging it to pour.

I always needed more. This is the only way. Will she even know? Will anyone? I want her to know I love her.

Cutting…This is not good enough…Slashing…You were never good enough Severus, you snivelling excuse for a boy...

Deeper and deeper…No one wants you. No one will want you now. A crimson torrent…Carved…

No one will love you like this…Frantic…She won’t even miss you. She won’t even care…Don’t stop Severus…More…don’t fail at this too…you always were a failure…just don’t stop…

Far away, I hear someone screaming. Someone is sobbing. Does she cry for me? Does she love me too? Does she even care?

I never did know when to stop. All I wanted was for her never to stop loving me. All I wanted was for the pain to stop.

Stop.

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A/N- Do let me know what you think. Reviews, good or bad, mean to world to me.

* Taken from, or rather written under the influence of, as I’m sure some of you well know, NIN’s Hurt- ‘I hurt myself today to see if I still feel.’