The Point of No Return PV: Ana Beckett closed

Interacting with @Anastasia Beckett

The Fight 'Fit

Eyre instantly regretted it when he realized how harshly his actions affected her. She was bleeding from the mouth, and for a moment, he almost saw a glimpse of vulnerability as she trembled in front of him. He wanted to turn back time when she saw how frightened her eyes looked, as if he were a monster. He couldn't help but think that he should've known better, that he should've left as soon as she tried to dig her claws into him. He was stunned, his mouth partially agape.

"An-"

She punched him. Hard. Her fist connected with the bridge of his nose, his head snapping backwards as he went reeling face first into the wall. His palms came up to stop himself from fully running into it in an effort to save his face. Not like it would make much of a difference, after Ana practically shattered his nose. He gasped out in pain, clutching his face with his right hand as the blood dripped down into his mouth. He turned back around to face her, his rage reignited.

The blood wasn't the only thing that was hot on his face, but also his tears. They spilled down his cheeks shamelessly, all semblance of dignity leaving his body. He grabbed her by the front of her jacket, his fists turning white.

"Why would you say something like that, about my parents?!" Eyre shouted in her face, suddenly becoming very confrontational and very, very livid. He had never been that angry in his entire life, and he was almost certain that his head was about to explode. He gritted his blood-stained teeth, using all of his strength to throw her onto the ground. He felt like he was losing it.

"I would NEVER say something like that to you about your family, if I had even the slightest inkling of what's going on!" He wiped his tears and blood from his face harshly with his sleeve. His eyes were so clouded with tears that he could only see the outline of her on the ground. "Fuck you!" He spat in the most betrayed tone he could muster. He was heartbroken, but also so irate that he could hardly even look at her.

The fit

Her knuckles twinged slightly and she had an inkling that her hand was going to hurt badly later on. One would think with all of the punching people she had done lately, she would be a bit better at that by now. This felt worse than any of the other fights she had gotten into. Punching random strangers because they were gossiping about her wasn't anywhere near the level of punching one of her oldest friends in the face because he had slapped her.

Eyre staggering face-first into the wall didn't make her feel any better. If it was anyone else, she would have laughed because the sight was almost comical, but the idea sickened her. Part of her was horrified at her actions, the part that was terrified of what she was becoming and what she was capable every time she hit someone. Every logical part of her brain was screaming at her to stop and it was as though she was a passenger in her own body. She couldn't have stopped even if she had really wanted to. The other part of her scared her more. The other part that she didn't want to think about it was relishing in it.

His grabbing her by her jacket took her by surprise. They had always laughed about how he always managed to be an inch taller than her, but at that moment, it seemed like more and it scared her. She was suddenly acutely aware that she wasn't someone who was remotely capable of winning any kind of fight. Her life of privilege meant she had never had any reason to before school and the fights she had won had been against people that she was taller than or had the advantage of surprise on. She wasn't a fighter. She was a Quidditch player and ballerina. While she was muscular, she knew she had no hope of winning an actual fight.

Eyre's screaming in her face didn't help things either. The growing terror in her stomach expanded as did the anger. As she flew to the ground, she kicked a foot outwards. She had intended for it to hit him in the shin or knee or stomach or something to distract him enough to get another good hit in and leave. Her foot struck just between his legs as she hit the ground. Her right elbow throbbed painfully as the owlery floor met her.

"Oh, please, stop acting like you're some kind of fucking saint," she said, her tone steely but far more fear than she would have liked in her eyes. "We both know you would, which is why I haven't been foolish enough to tell you or anyone for that matter anything about my life. Cause it's my fucking business" She made no motion to get up, she merely continued to stare up at him, daring him to keep going and promising both of them she wasn't going to walk away from this unless she won.

Interacting with @Anastasia Beckett
Permission was given to godmod

The 'Fit

Her misplaced kick to the groin made him cringe hard enough that he felt like his teeth might shatter, doubling over onto the ground. It was pathetic, but all he could do was rock back and forth on the ground, his arms around his stomach as he tried to recover from the painful blow that left him in agony.

"Shut up! Sh-Shut the fffff-" Eyre hissed out air in between his teeth as he tried not to get sick. So much for having kids someday.

He rolled onto his front as soon as he was could and propped himself back up with his arms in a wrestling stance. He looked a lot like their house mascot, blood dripping down his nose, his curls wild and his eyes dark as he was waiting for her to fight back. Ana was unmoving and looked somewhat frightened by how crazed he looked. The rational part of his brain wanted to stop, but the pain that was still burning through his body was enough to send him over the edge with fury.

"If you want to fight, than swing at me, goddamn it! Or are you too scared to get blood on your designer coat?" He taunted, backing her up against the wall as he crawled forward. At this point, his moral compass was screaming at him to chill, to take a step back, ANYTHING, but his body had gone on complete auto pilot. He was so enraged that there was no stopping the shitshow that was coming out of his mouth.

"You said that I was like our parents at the platform, but it looks like you're just as frivolous as they are. Tell me, does the great Athena Switch know that you've been spending her hard earned galleons to look rich AND poor for attention?"

Eyre regretted that the millisecond it left his lips.

Note: Eyre does not know what the specifics of what happened at the Beckett Manor over the summer. The mention of Ana's mom is only a cruel coincidence.

The fit

She cringed slightly as her foot made contact. That had to hurt, and based on the way he doubled over in pain, she would say it hurt far more than she'd intended. It was a good thing that he wasn't the only Reeves child because she had definitely decreased the chances of him continuing that bloodline. Then again, if what he had said was really true, there wasn't much of a chance of that, to begin with. Still, that didn't make her feel much better about kicking him in the groin.

The crazed look in his eyes as he crawled at her scared her more than she would have liked to admit. She wasn't someone who liked to be afraid of anyone, least of all someone she counted as a friend, but this wasn't a normal situation. Objectively speaking, she wasn't good at fighting people. She was a spoiled ballerina that barely weighed 100 pounds. Add to matters that Eyre had gotten into more than a few fistfights and had at least an inch on her, and the girl's stomach turned. When they were younger, she had always been more of a sneaky fighter, slipping toads in other girl's blouses and 'accidentally' spilling drinks on people. Until recently, she had never been the type to get into a physical fight, and she wasn't any good at it. There was no way for her to win this as it was.

"Unlike you, I'm not a fucking neanderthal who just hits people for fun," she said, her tone far more defiant and brave than she felt as she scrambled backward. That was a lie. She had hit more than one person lately, and she was sure he had heard the rumors. She felt her back up against a wall and she searched her brain for ideas. She felt her wand inside her jacket, but she didn't want to cross that line. Not that refraining from hexing him was going to win points, but as much as she hated him at that moment, she couldn't do that.

Until he decided to bring up her mother. The fear and pain vanished from her eyes and were replaced by pure white-hot rage. This wasn't her shouting anger, this was worse. It was cold and silent and deadly. She couldn't even bring herself to reply to his taunt. He was going to use that as a throwaway comment about her change in style? He was going to say she was like their parents just for a dis over her jeans and jacket? As if what he was wearing at that moment wasn't homeless person wear. Her livid eyes met his for a moment as he neared. Her fingers tightened around her wand as she suddenly yanked it from her jacket and pointed it at him. Her eyes never leaving his, she flicked her wand and crossed yet another line. "Flipendo, motherfucker," she said, her voice quiet and furious.

Her friend flying backward should have made her feel something. Remorse, guilt, hurt, maybe a little pride at how perfectly her spell was executed, something. Instead, all she felt was the horrible nothing she had been feeling for months now. Her dark eyes were murderous as she pushed herself to her feet and continued to glare at him.

Godmodding of Eyre Reeves was approved.

Interacting with @Anastasia Beckett
Permission was given to godmod.

The 'Fit

Eyre let out a terrified yell as he was catapulted into the wall by her spell. He hit the hard wall with a groan, landing in a pile of feathers. It wasn't as pleasant as one would expect, as he would soon realize that the feathers were covered in owl pellets and loads of bones that dug into his back. He withheld a gag, pushing himself back onto his feet as fast as he could. Luckily, his wand was also in his pocket, which he whipped out in a frenzy.

Eyre was shaking as he stared her down, his pupils dark and sweat running down his brow. She was older than him by a year, and clearly knew more spells than he did. Not only that, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew how infamous she was around school for playing dirty.

"Come on, Ana... come on..." Eyre trembled. He shouldn't have been egging her on. In fact, he should've shut his mouth ages ago. He was only making this worse by sticking around to fight her, but his ego couldn't allow himself to leave. Ana was very much aware of how competitive he was. He'd always been that way as a child, even in moments where it was clear that he was the weaker competitor compared to her. It was the fighter instinct in him. It's the only thing that'd kept his head afloat, during all those years of being beat down by his family. He had to be up on top.

His level of paranoia was through the roof, however. The moment that he saw even the slightest movement in his direction, his wand slashed through the air at lightning speed.

"Verdimillious!" He spat, making sure to close his eyes so he wasn't blinded by the green sparks that erupted out of his wand. It looked to be effective when he opened his eyes and saw that she was effectively stunned from it. Now. Now was the time to go. He knew that he didn't want to hurt her any more than he did already. The fight was repulsive, at this point, and it could only get worse.

Hoping to bide himself some time, or at least increase his chance of winning the fight, his wand was at the ready again. "Fumos." He twisted his wand, the room filling with smoke. For some reason, though, he still couldn't move. The sound of Ana clearly struggling, blind and unable to breathe disturbed him, and for a moment he debated pulling her out of it so that he didn't have to hear her suffer. Why was it so hard to let go and be done with her?

The fit

The terrified sound that emitted from Eyre hurt her in her soul. What kind of person did this to someone who had been their best friend for so long? No, Eyre was doing the exact same thing. This was out of her control now and she had to end this somehow before either one of them was seriously hurt. Still, when he could have left, he chose to escalate further by pulling out his wand. Her plan had basically been to flipendo the shit out of him and flee the scene before either of them were caught, but he had just made that an impossibility.

She sniffled slightly, and wished desperately she could solely blame that on her stupid feather allegy. Truth be told, it was more likely a combination of the fact that she was on the verge of sobbing and had also been hit. Still, she was going to pretend it was that allegery. That it was something mundane and irritating. Not the sign of the mess that was underway.

His goading just riled her up further. He of all people ought to have known she wouldn't walk away from something like this without a definitive victory. Nothing less than perfection had ever been an option for her growing up, and despite the fact that her mother was dead and her father might as well have been, she was going to continue pushing herself to the brink in the desperate pursuit of her impossible goal. If she had been good enough, none of this would have happened. If she had been good enough, she wouldn't have snapped at Eyre at the train station. Hell, if she had been good enough, her family would still be intact. Her mother would still be alive.

She wasn't good enough then. She had to be good enough now.

"Diffindo!" she said, her voice hard to cover the fact that both it and she were on the verge of breaking. As she cast the spell, Eyre shot sparks in her face, effectively blinding her. Her throat tightened in panic. She couldn't be blinded. That meant she was helpless and that thought terrifying her more than anything.

As her vision began to clear, Eyre released a smoke screen spell. Her lungs filled with smoke and she was again unable to see anything. She choked and depserately gasped for air. What the hell was he doing? Unable to see, decided to target the space that his voice had seemed to have come from. "You coward! Diffindo!" she rasped. She had no idea whether that spell, or the prevous one for that matter, had hit Eyre or even been cast successfully. Clearly, they hadn't, since he was still casting, right? The smoke began to clear from her thoart and eyes, and as it did so, she made a snap descision. "Diffindo!" She just needed one of them to hit for her to consider this fight a win and take her leave.

Interacting with @Anastasia Beckett

The 'Fit

CW:Multiple diffindo injuries, blood, cursing

He didn't realize that he'd been cut until he felt something warm pooling in the center of his shirt. The smoke screen made it so he wasn't able to see much, but when he brought his hand up to the center of his chest he could feel blood coating his palm. She'd really gone that far. Eyre bit the inside of his mouth to keep himself from getting sick as he stared at the silhouette of Ana in the smoke. It was as though he had awakened the darker part of her; the part of her that most people feared. He wished that he hadn't.

"You coward! Diffindo!"

The second cut came splintering across his skin diagonally, meeting in the middle of the first slash as if he carried hidden treasure within his chest. He gasped out in pure shock, his teeth barred as if he were about to scream, but instead he was choked out by the smoke of his own spell. He began to cough and gag, running his fingers along the slash in a panic as if he could heal the severity of his wound just by touching it. He didn't want to fight anymore. He raised his arms in surrender, shouting at her in fear.

"Ana, STOP!"

"Diffindo!"

The room went silent on Eyre's end. The only ambient noise that could be heard was the fluttering of wings above and the chittering of distressed birds. The smoke began to dissipate, and once it was gone Ana was able to see the gravity of the situation. Eyre had collapsed backwards onto a pile of feathers after the last blow. His black shirt and flannel were torn up and the feathers that he laid on were dyed crimson red. His skin was white and pallor, and his teeth were clenched in a permanent grimace as he tried to keep himself from fainting.

"R-Reparo... Reparo!" Eyre had his wand in his grimy hand, pointing it at himself as if the spell would alleviate his injuries. He knew that wasn't the right spell. It was stupid, but he was desperate and on the verge of losing his mind. "REPARO!" He cried out, his eyes full of tears as the pain ravaged its way through his body. It was time to give up. He couldn't bear to fight anymore. He was done.

Eyre's body went slack against the feathers for a moment at will, his head rolling back as he let out a sob of frustration at how pathetically injured he was. Ana's third and final spell had carved through the skin at his collarbones and dangerously close to his neck. If she would've struck any higher... it could've ended a lot worse.

When he moved again, he raised his head with as much strength as he could bear to meet her eyes. To even look at her was painful. His head was swirling with a combination of delirium, pain and white-hot rage. He held a lot of power in that moment. He could go running to the headmaster, telling him that Ana had cut him up. Hell, he could probably get her expelled for attacking him so viciously.

But.. he knew he couldn't.

"...Get out of here, Ana." Eyre barely managed to hiss out, his blue eyes vacant and unmoving. "Leave before a prefect comes in and sees that you almost f-f-fucking killed me."

It took a lot of strength to sit still. He didn't even dare to blink as he watched her, waiting for her to leave. His jaw was tight and his fists were screwed shut so tightly as he tried to fight back the pain that was ravaging the center of his body. Eyre knew that it was all an act. As soon as she left, he knew that he was going to become utterly inconsolable.

The fit

She choked and squinted as the smoke continued to clear. She had to make sure he was down for a moment so she could go. Not that she particularly expected him to hex her with her back turned, but then again, she hadn't expected him to slap her and she hadn't expected her mother to die, so her expectations meant very little.

She could hear him coughing and gagging through the smoke, but she still didn't have a clear view. The sudden silence terrified her. What if he had somehow fallen off because of her? She was angry at him, to be certain, probably wanted to never speak to him again, but that didn't mean she wanted him seriously injured. Or worse...

Her heart pounded and the silence was deafening as the smoke finally vanished. The moment she could see again, she desperately wished for the smoke to obscure her view. It was worse than she had imagined. By the looks of things, not one, not two, but all three of her spells had not only been executed but had hit him. Her hand clutching her wand began to shake before she lowered it and tightened her jaw.

It seemed to hit worse the longer she stared. His sob suddenly brought her back to another, similar sound of pain. The sound she had heard when she had opened her front door the night her mother was killed. Her breathing quickened and the sights of her mother's body and Eyre's fallen form blurred together. She felt numb and for a moment, she couldn't hear or see where she was. Eyre's painful rasps brought her back. She watched as he tried in vain to heal himself and she racked her mind for a spell, a potion, something that would help. God, what kind of school would teach you how to inflict such pain before teaching you how to fix it? She came up blank and stiffly took one step back, then another, before suddenly turning and running down the stairs. Her first sob was drowned out by the door slamming behind her.

She had no idea where she was going, no goal or destination. Somehow she ended up in a bathroom, where she immediately wretched into a toilet. She was disgusted and horrified by what she had just done, but also what it meant. If she so easily caused that much pain to one of the most important people in the world to her with barely two years of magical training, what did that say about her father and what he could do? Her refusal to even acknowledge the possibility that he was actually the one guilty for her mother's death had just gone from overly naive and optimistic to purely refusing to acknowledge the facts, and deep down she knew it. Sobs continued to shake her entire body and her hands refused to stop trembling.

What the hell had she done?

Anastasia Beckett has exited this thread to cry for several hours as I will also now be doing.