House of Blacks -Christmas Ball - 05/24/78

I locked myself in my father’s study. I did not want anyone seeing me this way. My chest was rising and falling out of control. I had an anxiety attack, I was unable to breath; there was simply not enough air. I hated feeling out of control, not able to regulate my own body. I could hear voices, voices in my head. Before losing an ability to function, I cast a silencing charm on the door. No one has to know.
“Murderer…murderer…murderer…” something was whispering in my ear. Not knowing what else to do I screamed, not recognizing my own voice. The whispering became unbearable, it would not stop.
“Stop it, shut up!!! Stop it!!!” I screamed, trying to scream as loud as I could in hope to shadow out the whispers. I grabbed my hair in my shaking hands, ripping it. Sharp pain shut through my body making my knees weak. I collapsed onto the floor, screaming. The pain helped, bringing me back into reality. The whispering has stopped. I was shaking on the floor, trying to gather myself. This was not happening to me. No one must know.
I was the smartest, the most beautiful, and the most promising daughter of Blacks. I had no room for mistakes or disappointment.
It took all of me to get up. I got a handkerchief out of the pocket of my dress robes; along with some healing potion my mother has given me. I walked to the mirror wanting to fix up my hair. I looked like death, pail and fragile. The view displeased me to the point of disgust. I took a swig of the liquid from a little silver flask; the liquid stung my throat making me cough. Handkerchief proved to be useful. I quickly fixed my hair and powdered my face making myself more presentable. As I walked back into the hall I forced myself to smile.