8 Jun 2020, 23:10
Coming Home
June 30th
NPCs: Cab driver, Wyatt's mom, nurse
Getting off of the train, Wyatt frowned. Looking around, he didn’t see his mother anywhere, and all the other students were running into their parents’ arms. It wasn’t suspicious she wasn’t there though. On his way to the train the first time, he’d gotten a cab, since his mother had to work.
Still, he was disappointed. He hadn't come home for any of the breaks since his mother had told him not to and he was really looking forward to seeing her again. He checked the front pocket of his backpack for his house keys, and they were still there.
Walking out of the station, he rummaged through his bad and found a few pounds he could use for a cab, and hailed one over. The driver was quite chatty and tried to make conversation. Wyatt didn’t want to talk, but he was taught to be polite and respectful towards adults.
"So, where yeh comin’ from?"
“School, in Paris.”
"Ah, boarding school! Which one, eh?"
Wyatt didn’t know any boarding schools in Paris, but his mother said that when people asked where she went to school, she would say Marteau à Crevettes in Paris.
“Marteau à Crevettes.”
Marteau à Crevettes is “shrimp hammer” in French. She really just took two French words and put them together, but a lot of people don’t know French, so…
"Ah, sounds fancy."
“It is, it’s very nice.”
They got to the airport, and Wyatt got on a short flight to Birmingham. From there, he took a cab home. The new driver didn’t talk to Wyatt very much. It was a pretty long ride for a cab, maybe half an hour. Wyatt surprised himself by having enough to pay for both cab rides, though.
Thanking the driver and grabbing both of his suitcases and his backpack, he stepped out of the cab. There wasn’t exactly a driveway, so he walked through the damp, dark alley to find his townhome. He stepped in about a million puddles on the way there, the weather wasn't very nice in Cokeworth. From the front pocket of his backpack, he took out his keys.
He really just wanted to use alohomora to open the door with the wand in his backpack, but he knew if he did magic outside of school he’d be expelled. A bloody stupid law, he thought as he turned the keys and opened the door.
Stepping inside, it felt very cold. All the lights were off. Wyatt walked very slowly through the house, careful not to make any noise. Maybe his mum was already sleeping. Though he found the door to her room slightly open, with light coming from inside of it.
When he opened the door, he found his mom, laying in bed. She was incredibly skinny and sickly pale. All her hair was gone, the only thing making her even half recognizable were her signature black eyes, the ones she gave to Wyatt. There was a woman sitting next to her in scrubs. The lady in scrubs was giving Wyatt’s mother pills.
“Wit!” His mother said, with her signature warm smile. He didn’t startle her at all. Her expression said everything was normal when it definitely didn’t look like it.
The nurse turned and smiled at the boy.
“Is this your son?”
Wyatt was dumbfounded. Everyone was acting like everything was normal when it definitely wasn’t.
“I'm sorry, what is going on?”
NPCs: Cab driver, Wyatt's mom, nurse
Getting off of the train, Wyatt frowned. Looking around, he didn’t see his mother anywhere, and all the other students were running into their parents’ arms. It wasn’t suspicious she wasn’t there though. On his way to the train the first time, he’d gotten a cab, since his mother had to work.
Still, he was disappointed. He hadn't come home for any of the breaks since his mother had told him not to and he was really looking forward to seeing her again. He checked the front pocket of his backpack for his house keys, and they were still there.
Walking out of the station, he rummaged through his bad and found a few pounds he could use for a cab, and hailed one over. The driver was quite chatty and tried to make conversation. Wyatt didn’t want to talk, but he was taught to be polite and respectful towards adults.
"So, where yeh comin’ from?"
“School, in Paris.”
"Ah, boarding school! Which one, eh?"
Wyatt didn’t know any boarding schools in Paris, but his mother said that when people asked where she went to school, she would say Marteau à Crevettes in Paris.
“Marteau à Crevettes.”
Marteau à Crevettes is “shrimp hammer” in French. She really just took two French words and put them together, but a lot of people don’t know French, so…
"Ah, sounds fancy."
“It is, it’s very nice.”
They got to the airport, and Wyatt got on a short flight to Birmingham. From there, he took a cab home. The new driver didn’t talk to Wyatt very much. It was a pretty long ride for a cab, maybe half an hour. Wyatt surprised himself by having enough to pay for both cab rides, though.
Thanking the driver and grabbing both of his suitcases and his backpack, he stepped out of the cab. There wasn’t exactly a driveway, so he walked through the damp, dark alley to find his townhome. He stepped in about a million puddles on the way there, the weather wasn't very nice in Cokeworth. From the front pocket of his backpack, he took out his keys.
He really just wanted to use alohomora to open the door with the wand in his backpack, but he knew if he did magic outside of school he’d be expelled. A bloody stupid law, he thought as he turned the keys and opened the door.
Stepping inside, it felt very cold. All the lights were off. Wyatt walked very slowly through the house, careful not to make any noise. Maybe his mum was already sleeping. Though he found the door to her room slightly open, with light coming from inside of it.
When he opened the door, he found his mom, laying in bed. She was incredibly skinny and sickly pale. All her hair was gone, the only thing making her even half recognizable were her signature black eyes, the ones she gave to Wyatt. There was a woman sitting next to her in scrubs. The lady in scrubs was giving Wyatt’s mother pills.
“Wit!” His mother said, with her signature warm smile. He didn’t startle her at all. Her expression said everything was normal when it definitely didn’t look like it.
The nurse turned and smiled at the boy.
“Is this your son?”
Wyatt was dumbfounded. Everyone was acting like everything was normal when it definitely wasn’t.
“I'm sorry, what is going on?”
Last edited by Wyatt Starkey on 15 Jun 2020, 19:48, edited 3 times in total.
| “If you ever need anything please don't hesitate to ask someone else first.” - Kurt Cobain. |
Sta: 15 | Eva: 20 | Str: 6 | Wis: 9 | Arc: 9 | Acc: 11 Parselmouth | Prodigal DADA | Fearless | Muggle Condition |
9 Jun 2020, 17:49
Coming Home
This isn't incredibly detailed but it's pretty heavy,
and deals with death (lung cancer). If that could be triggering,
please don't read.
July 12th, 2o2o, 14:04, Starkey Residence
Wyatt was… sobbing. He’d never sobbed before, not even when his father used to hurl insults at him. He’d always been sad, but now he felt like one million dementors were swirling around his mother’s bedside.
Eloise Marie Starkey was dying. She’d always been a smoker, it’d helped her in stressful times. Wyatt could never bring himself to tell his mother off, and now it was coming back to haunt him. She had stage 4 lung cancer, and the muggle hospitals couldn’t help her.
One week ago, when the doctors told Wyatt she had a week left to live, he’d asked her if she wanted to go to St. Mungo’s. She’d told him that solution would only give her another year, that it would only delay the inevitable. Wyatt told her that another year would be good for them, but she insisted to be taken back to their apartment so she could die there, and not in some hospital.
He was angry. All he got with his mother was one week since he got back from school all because she was too thoughtful to owl him to come home early. She’d owled him about the bloody quidditch game a week back and didn’t mention anything she was going through. She told Wyatt it was because she “didn’t want to ruin [his] time left at school.” She didn’t want to be “a burden.”
“You could never be a burden to me,” he’d told her, but she never listened
The week had passed, leaving Wyatt sitting in an old wooden chair by his mother’s bed. His hand in hers. He’d gotten rides to see his mother every day from the director of the boys home for the last week. Wyatt would sit and hold her hand, every time. Sometimes, his mother would have the strength to have a small conversation, to try and make things seem normal, but it was never normal. It could never be normal.
She squeezed Wyatt’s hand and turned her head to look him in his puffy, jet black eyes. Ones that were usually hidden behind a mask, but now, Wyatt couldn’t hide his emotions. He averted her gaze and looked at the painting on the wall. The painting used to make him happy. It was a meadow with a clear sky rimmed with a gold frame. Now it was just the picture he looked at so he didn’t have to look at his mother.
“Look at me.”
Wyatt sniffed, and looked over to meet her eyes, they were just as dark, not as puffy and red. She looked very sickly. Her pale skin made her look like a ghost, and she was so skinny she barely looked human, but she didn’t look worried. She didn’t look nervous. She didn’t look afraid. She seemed to be okay with everything that was happening.
“How are you okay with this!?”
In response, his mother just laughed.
“Don’t be silly… we all… die, Wit.” She smiled her warm smile. It was the same as it always was. Comforting. She wasn’t supposed to comfort Wyatt, though! It was Wyatt who was supposed to do the comforting! He closed his eyes, his way of showing that he didn’t accept the smile.
“I don’t want you to go yet,” he confessed, though he tried to hold it back, it just spilled out.
“I know,” she breathed. “I love you, Wit.”
“I love you, mum.”
Then, he felt the frail hand relax. He opened his eyes and exhaled heavily at what he saw. Her chest rose and fell once more.
It was July 12th, 2o2o, 14:10, and she was gone.
He cried. He cried more violently than he ever had before. The door burst open, and in came two nurses. While one dragged the crying 12-year old into the living room, the other checked his mother’s pulse. Wyatt saw the woman sigh, which only made him yell louder. He tried to run back in, but the nurse wouldn’t let him go.
and deals with death (lung cancer). If that could be triggering,
please don't read.
July 12th, 2o2o, 14:04, Starkey Residence
Wyatt was… sobbing. He’d never sobbed before, not even when his father used to hurl insults at him. He’d always been sad, but now he felt like one million dementors were swirling around his mother’s bedside.
Eloise Marie Starkey was dying. She’d always been a smoker, it’d helped her in stressful times. Wyatt could never bring himself to tell his mother off, and now it was coming back to haunt him. She had stage 4 lung cancer, and the muggle hospitals couldn’t help her.
One week ago, when the doctors told Wyatt she had a week left to live, he’d asked her if she wanted to go to St. Mungo’s. She’d told him that solution would only give her another year, that it would only delay the inevitable. Wyatt told her that another year would be good for them, but she insisted to be taken back to their apartment so she could die there, and not in some hospital.
He was angry. All he got with his mother was one week since he got back from school all because she was too thoughtful to owl him to come home early. She’d owled him about the bloody quidditch game a week back and didn’t mention anything she was going through. She told Wyatt it was because she “didn’t want to ruin [his] time left at school.” She didn’t want to be “a burden.”
“You could never be a burden to me,” he’d told her, but she never listened
The week had passed, leaving Wyatt sitting in an old wooden chair by his mother’s bed. His hand in hers. He’d gotten rides to see his mother every day from the director of the boys home for the last week. Wyatt would sit and hold her hand, every time. Sometimes, his mother would have the strength to have a small conversation, to try and make things seem normal, but it was never normal. It could never be normal.
She squeezed Wyatt’s hand and turned her head to look him in his puffy, jet black eyes. Ones that were usually hidden behind a mask, but now, Wyatt couldn’t hide his emotions. He averted her gaze and looked at the painting on the wall. The painting used to make him happy. It was a meadow with a clear sky rimmed with a gold frame. Now it was just the picture he looked at so he didn’t have to look at his mother.
“Look at me.”
Wyatt sniffed, and looked over to meet her eyes, they were just as dark, not as puffy and red. She looked very sickly. Her pale skin made her look like a ghost, and she was so skinny she barely looked human, but she didn’t look worried. She didn’t look nervous. She didn’t look afraid. She seemed to be okay with everything that was happening.
“How are you okay with this!?”
In response, his mother just laughed.
“Don’t be silly… we all… die, Wit.” She smiled her warm smile. It was the same as it always was. Comforting. She wasn’t supposed to comfort Wyatt, though! It was Wyatt who was supposed to do the comforting! He closed his eyes, his way of showing that he didn’t accept the smile.
“I don’t want you to go yet,” he confessed, though he tried to hold it back, it just spilled out.
“I know,” she breathed. “I love you, Wit.”
“I love you, mum.”
Then, he felt the frail hand relax. He opened his eyes and exhaled heavily at what he saw. Her chest rose and fell once more.
It was July 12th, 2o2o, 14:10, and she was gone.
He cried. He cried more violently than he ever had before. The door burst open, and in came two nurses. While one dragged the crying 12-year old into the living room, the other checked his mother’s pulse. Wyatt saw the woman sigh, which only made him yell louder. He tried to run back in, but the nurse wouldn’t let him go.
Last edited by Wyatt Starkey on 15 Jun 2020, 19:49, edited 2 times in total.
| “If you ever need anything please don't hesitate to ask someone else first.” - Kurt Cobain. |
Sta: 15 | Eva: 20 | Str: 6 | Wis: 9 | Arc: 9 | Acc: 11 Parselmouth | Prodigal DADA | Fearless | Muggle Condition |
9 Jun 2020, 17:51
Coming Home
July 12th, 2o2o, 15:13, Starkey Residence
Wyatt sat at the dining room table, looking straight ahead at the fridge for an hour, though it felt like 15 years. He stared at each picture, each magnet. Pictures of Wyatt and his mother. Terrible drawings he’d done when he was 4. They’d put those up right after his dad left. They were just starting to have a happy family, but everything ends. A nurse walked up to the boy and placed a box and a folded sheet of white paper on the table in front of him.
“This was in her drawer. I assume you’re Wyatt Starkey?”
“Yes, thank you,” he replied, hoarsely. The nurse walked away, giving him his space.
He unfolded the paper labeled Wyatt Starkey and read the note.
Wyatt wiped the tears from his cheeks. Lately, he’d been crying loudly, violently, but it was a quiet whimper now.
He opened the box and was shocked to see a rusty old necklace, but it wasn’t any old rusty necklace. This was the necklace his mother wore every day. She hadn’t taken it off since she found it in the forbidden forest on her 16th birthday. It was one of his favorite stories of hers.
She’d been hanging out with her friends on the grounds, having a birthday picnic. They were playing truth or dare, and she’d been dared to go into the forbidden forest. She tried to say no at first, but the idea intrigued her, so she ended up doing it anyway. She stepped on the necklace, and picked it up. It was already broken before she got to it. She casted reparo, and put it around her neck. Then, she heard footsteps. It sounded like two people, but she came to realize it was actually a centaur. He almost killed her at first, as he was startled by her, but she proved herself to be harmless. She placed her wand on the ground as a sign of peace, and he noticed her necklace. He told her the story of the deathly hallows, and she thanked him for not hurting her. She grabbed her wand from the ground and went back to the picnic, but she didn’t tell her friends about what had happened.
Wyatt put the necklace around his neck and put it under his shirt, closer to his heart. He folded the letter and put it in his pocket. It didn't feel real. How could she be gone?
Wyatt sat at the dining room table, looking straight ahead at the fridge for an hour, though it felt like 15 years. He stared at each picture, each magnet. Pictures of Wyatt and his mother. Terrible drawings he’d done when he was 4. They’d put those up right after his dad left. They were just starting to have a happy family, but everything ends. A nurse walked up to the boy and placed a box and a folded sheet of white paper on the table in front of him.
“This was in her drawer. I assume you’re Wyatt Starkey?”
“Yes, thank you,” he replied, hoarsely. The nurse walked away, giving him his space.
He unfolded the paper labeled Wyatt Starkey and read the note.
Wit,
I am gone, but you are still here. I could’ve prevented this, yet I chose not to put in the work to get over my addiction. It was easier to let this happen, so I did. Please do not hold yourself accountable for the actions I have made. I beg you to live your life as you would have if I never left. The orphanage will continue to take good care of you.
You may be hoping your uncle will take you to live with him and his family soon. I’m very sorry, Wit, but that is not an option. If he takes you in, he will be considered a blood traitor just as I have been, and he and his family will no longer have the financial support they have now. He has 3 children, I wouldn’t want to do that to him, and deep down, you wouldn’t want to either.
This is what to do in case of an emergency, Wit. Now that I am gone, it isn’t likely, but your father may come to take you from the orphanage. If he does, since he technically has the right to, there is nothing you can do to stop that. The safest thing for you to do in that case is to escape. Find a way to leave town, and find another orphanage to take you in. Don’t worry, Hogwarts will always find you. When you get there, make sure to arrange something with Solomon Lear so you can stay there full time. Don’t feel bad about it, many other children do it, so you won't be alone. Knowing you, though, you might enjoy it better on a year no other child stays the whole time.
I love you very much, Wit. Please be safe.
Love,
Mummy
Wyatt wiped the tears from his cheeks. Lately, he’d been crying loudly, violently, but it was a quiet whimper now.
He opened the box and was shocked to see a rusty old necklace, but it wasn’t any old rusty necklace. This was the necklace his mother wore every day. She hadn’t taken it off since she found it in the forbidden forest on her 16th birthday. It was one of his favorite stories of hers.
She’d been hanging out with her friends on the grounds, having a birthday picnic. They were playing truth or dare, and she’d been dared to go into the forbidden forest. She tried to say no at first, but the idea intrigued her, so she ended up doing it anyway. She stepped on the necklace, and picked it up. It was already broken before she got to it. She casted reparo, and put it around her neck. Then, she heard footsteps. It sounded like two people, but she came to realize it was actually a centaur. He almost killed her at first, as he was startled by her, but she proved herself to be harmless. She placed her wand on the ground as a sign of peace, and he noticed her necklace. He told her the story of the deathly hallows, and she thanked him for not hurting her. She grabbed her wand from the ground and went back to the picnic, but she didn’t tell her friends about what had happened.
Wyatt put the necklace around his neck and put it under his shirt, closer to his heart. He folded the letter and put it in his pocket. It didn't feel real. How could she be gone?
Last edited by Wyatt Starkey on 15 Jun 2020, 19:50, edited 2 times in total.
| “If you ever need anything please don't hesitate to ask someone else first.” - Kurt Cobain. |
Sta: 15 | Eva: 20 | Str: 6 | Wis: 9 | Arc: 9 | Acc: 11 Parselmouth | Prodigal DADA | Fearless | Muggle Condition |
9 Jun 2020, 17:55
Coming Home
July 14th, 2020, 12:30, Cokeworth Cemetary
Dark, cold, and stormy were not words that Wyatt would use to describe his mother’s funeral. They buried her in the Cokeworth cemetery on a sunny afternoon, which was odd because Cokeworth was rarely sunny. It was nice, though. It’d felt like the stars aligned for one sunny afternoon, and it was fitting. His mother was kind and warm like today’s sky. Wyatt often wondered why his mother was a Slytherin, if she was so kind. Wyatt was the only one there, but he liked it that way. His mother had many acquaintances, like work friends, but no friends close enough to be invited to the funeral.
-
July 14th, 2020, 19:33, Cokeworth Boys Home
After the funeral, he went back to the orphanage. While the other few kids were talking to each other, he just sat there in his suit staring ahead at nothing. The kids were freaked out by Wyatt. At dinner, another child came to sit next to him, and he just kept staring down at his plate.
“Hey. Name’s Finn… I lost my mum and pop recently,” he said, his mouth full. “I miss em’ everyday, y’know? But it gets easier.”
Wyatt didn’t acknowledge the boy at all and continued staring at his plate, though he heard his words clearly.
“We all fink you’re strange, y’know. You’re not provin’ me wrong.”
“I don’t have to prove shit.”
“Alright, alright, calm down, there. I saw you got a guitar, eh? What about that?”
“What about that? What the hell does that even mean?”
“I’m just tryna make conversation, yeh greasy brat…”
There was a long pause, it wasn’t awkward though. It felt comfortable, a comfortable silence.
“You should burn that,” said the boy, pulling at Wyatt’s suit. Wyatt flinched and immediately shrugged him off.
“What do you mean?”
“I burned my funeral suit. Made me feel a whole lot be’er.”
Wyatt bit back a smirk.
“Sure.”
“You are strange… I had to convince Olly for hours ‘fore we burned his. What was your name? William? No, no, somthin’ like… Wilbur?”
“Wyatt,” he said. “Wyatt Starkey.”
The other boy smirked and they hatched a plan. While Finn guarded the door, Wyatt snuck into the office of the director of the Cokeworth Boys home while he was having his dessert. They’d find matches, and when Wyatt gave the signal (two taps on the door), Finn would come into the room with Wyatt’s suit in hand. They’d strike a match, light up the fireplace, and toss in the suit, then go back to bed.
The plan worked perfectly, and when he saw the clothes go up in flames, he felt the weight fall from his shoulders. He was still incredibly sad, but the symbolic gesture of setting the suit on fire was there, and it made him feel a little more comfortable.
Dark, cold, and stormy were not words that Wyatt would use to describe his mother’s funeral. They buried her in the Cokeworth cemetery on a sunny afternoon, which was odd because Cokeworth was rarely sunny. It was nice, though. It’d felt like the stars aligned for one sunny afternoon, and it was fitting. His mother was kind and warm like today’s sky. Wyatt often wondered why his mother was a Slytherin, if she was so kind. Wyatt was the only one there, but he liked it that way. His mother had many acquaintances, like work friends, but no friends close enough to be invited to the funeral.
-
July 14th, 2020, 19:33, Cokeworth Boys Home
After the funeral, he went back to the orphanage. While the other few kids were talking to each other, he just sat there in his suit staring ahead at nothing. The kids were freaked out by Wyatt. At dinner, another child came to sit next to him, and he just kept staring down at his plate.
“Hey. Name’s Finn… I lost my mum and pop recently,” he said, his mouth full. “I miss em’ everyday, y’know? But it gets easier.”
Wyatt didn’t acknowledge the boy at all and continued staring at his plate, though he heard his words clearly.
“We all fink you’re strange, y’know. You’re not provin’ me wrong.”
“I don’t have to prove shit.”
“Alright, alright, calm down, there. I saw you got a guitar, eh? What about that?”
“What about that? What the hell does that even mean?”
“I’m just tryna make conversation, yeh greasy brat…”
There was a long pause, it wasn’t awkward though. It felt comfortable, a comfortable silence.
“You should burn that,” said the boy, pulling at Wyatt’s suit. Wyatt flinched and immediately shrugged him off.
“What do you mean?”
“I burned my funeral suit. Made me feel a whole lot be’er.”
Wyatt bit back a smirk.
“Sure.”
“You are strange… I had to convince Olly for hours ‘fore we burned his. What was your name? William? No, no, somthin’ like… Wilbur?”
“Wyatt,” he said. “Wyatt Starkey.”
The other boy smirked and they hatched a plan. While Finn guarded the door, Wyatt snuck into the office of the director of the Cokeworth Boys home while he was having his dessert. They’d find matches, and when Wyatt gave the signal (two taps on the door), Finn would come into the room with Wyatt’s suit in hand. They’d strike a match, light up the fireplace, and toss in the suit, then go back to bed.
The plan worked perfectly, and when he saw the clothes go up in flames, he felt the weight fall from his shoulders. He was still incredibly sad, but the symbolic gesture of setting the suit on fire was there, and it made him feel a little more comfortable.
| “If you ever need anything please don't hesitate to ask someone else first.” - Kurt Cobain. |
Sta: 15 | Eva: 20 | Str: 6 | Wis: 9 | Arc: 9 | Acc: 11 Parselmouth | Prodigal DADA | Fearless | Muggle Condition |