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Jacqueline Frost

I cannot dwell on what we’ve lost, and how secrecy and silence comes at such a cost

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Jacqueline Frost

Sleep was a luxury Jack didn't have the privilege of having, not since the night of the attack, not since she knew that her time in the isolation and safety of the hospital wing was running out and soon she'd have to rejoin her peers in class, the common room, etc. Nightmares plagued her, whether they were vivid reenactments of her attack or made-up scenarios of what the aftermath could be if she were to be exposed as the thing... monster... halfbreed she'd become she was better off not sleeping. She was never the type for childish daydreams anyway. If she was awake she prevented herself from letting her mind wander from reality. 


For someone who needed to be silenced on a daily basis in order to shut up for a change, Jack also hadn't said a word. The most communication she'd had was when she was being checked up on and even then, the most she'd managed were demands that she wanted to be kept alone with no visitors, no disturbances and if a Malcolm Mercer showed up he needed to flack off. 




What was she going to do about Mal when the Gryffindor was bound to find her. The silent treatment prior to the attack didn't deter him, Jack didn't have a reason to believe that an extra week of silence would get him to change his mind. Things were different now. She wasn't the same Jacqueline Frost who was hurt and angry because she saw her best friend (former? best friend)locking lips publicly with @Jaxon Sinclair and she'd realized that maybe she did in fact, very obviously like him. 


Now she could hurt him. 




If she accidentally scratched him or worse if she ever lost control and he was there... 


Jack didn't want to think about that, but she knew she needed to do something. 


Ignoring the accumulating pile of homework that had been delivered, she reached for a notebook and her sharpies. If she couldn't tell him in person, at least she could do it in writing. 




I miss you. 


Jack ripped the sheet of paper, frowning and crumpling it into a ball before throwing it to the foot of her bed. 




I do very obviously like you. 




"Focus and think. No feelings." Jack muttered to herself, ripping that page too and disposing of it too, frustrated by the fact that she couldn't get herself to think rationally rather than writing something she meant but knew couldn't admit anymore. It was too late for emotions, she needed to do what was best for everyone in the long run. 




Everyone was right. 

— Jack




That would do, it was vague but it detracted away from any sentimental rubbish she wanted to confess to him. 

Edited by Jacqueline Frost

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