|You have knocked me off my feet again; Got me feeling like I'm nothing|
|Someday, I'll be big enough so you can't hit me; And all you're ever gonna be is mean|

"I think the one story that stuck to me the was the story about how she became empty. That's one scary feeling right there. To be pushed so much that you feel empty? I can't wait to tell you all this....." ~Antares "Taylor" Sirius Black

Year: 1970, London, Britain
Setting: The Longbottom Palace

not a fan of this one either, lmao.

• • • • • • • • • •

Susan Longbottom has been feeling pain since she lashed out that night. She has been feeling nothing but pain since she cried for her parents to come back. She felt nothing but pain when she hugged her brother tightly at night and told him she was sorry for scaring him. She felt nothing but pain when she got beat for, once again, protecting her brother.

"Why won't it go away..." She silently cried, holding herself as the tears dripped down the bridge of her nose and onto the ground's concrete.

She felt nothing but pain when Evelyn shouted she was only showing out for the Black boy and he'd never fall for an embarrassing half-blood like her.

She felt nothing but pain when the thought of grabbing a knife and slitting her throat became her golden option but she fought the urge for her brother.

She' felt nothing but pain when she was forced to sleep outside and wasn't let back in until two weeks later. That's the pain Susan felt. That's the pain Susan wished away but it stayed. And this is the pain Susan would learn to ignore.

But first... she's going to gain a new feeling that she will learn to ignore. How? Let's see.....

~•~•~•~•~•~

Susan stared down at the last page in her drawing notebook, feeling that emotion in her heart tightening. She only had one page left. Two pages if you count the back but that wasn't enough, right?

Drawing kept her calm. It helped her escape the reality of the world. It helped her escape the reality she lived in. It helped her mind get more creative. Without drawing, Susan would lose her mind. That's what she's going to do if she's not able to steal another spiral drawing notebook soon.

Plus, drawing is also how she's maintaining her anger problem.

Ever since she lashed out at Evelyn and Alfie for touching her brother, she's been feeling more angry by the day. She didn't feel like herself anymore. But who would feel like themselves being stuck in this house? It isn't considered a home. Who would call this place a home? It didn't deserve that title.

It was pure despair living here with these people. Susan hated them. She hated them. Her old self was this happy and wonderous little child, smiling all the time and enjoying her parents. This her --- thanks to them --- is full of anger and pain. This wasn't Susan at all and she could feel it. Those people completely changed her over the years and there's no denying it. She used to smile and she used to laugh out in the open. She used to love being naive.

Evelyn told her she had an ugly smile. Alfie told her laughing was for people who saw life as a joke.

Simply being born as the first Half-Blood in the family, she's been treated like dirt. As repetitive as it is, Susan will never live this down. On some days, her mind would trick her - believing she'd managed to get on their good side, managed to be treated with love. The hope inside of her came from a lost girl; a girl only knowing strength as the emotion to display. If she's not displaying strength, she's displaying weakness. What does weakness do? It opens the gate to predators. And Susan was everyone's prey.

The abuse was her fault. Frank lived in this situation because of her. If she wasn't here, Frank would still be. He'd be a Pureblood - carrying on the bloodline their family was respected for. He'd have no sister to worry about; he'd have no sister to wander around in the cold with; he'd have no sister being abused.

What trauma were her beatings causing him?

She sniffed, thinking about the swelling tears in his eyes whenever he watched her get hit; watched her get yelled at - get told how worthless she is to their family.

She knew she had to contain it since she didn't want to see Frank cry again and hear him blame himself for causing her to get angry. He deserved a better sister; someone better to take care of him.

Maybe... maybe her parents were killed because of her?

Sitting up against her bedroom's wall, she begin digging into the skin of her inner elbow. Her breathing quickened, the breaths leading down the path of shorter and shorter as she forced herself to breathe correctly.

What was that thought?

Susan could already feel her heart aching, her hand twitching to draw. She had to steal another drawing notebook soon before she went insane. She loved the feeling of getting lost in her work; it gives her a sense of accomplishment. Usually. But now she won't ever get that beautiful feeling of drawing back because she's on her last page. Her last page was like her last breath. Her last page was like her last ounce of sanity. Her last page was like her last page of accomplishment. Her last page was like her last page of feeling like she's worth something. Her last page was like her last page of feeling like she wasn't an disappointment. It might seem dramatic but drawing plays a big part in her life. Drawing is her life.

Susan shakily closed her drawing notebook and kept snipping her breaths. She couldn't breathe and she felt like the world around her froze while she was stuck in the middle of it. The room closed in on her and laughing grew in the back of her head.

She felt so defeated.

"What will I do now? What will I do when I need to express myself? What will I do when I need to contain my anger? How will I contain my anger without being able to draw? How will I escape.... I live in my drawings.... I can't draw on the walls... they'd notice. They'll be mad...." She panicked as she covered her face with her hands. She was very much scared at this point. There was no way in hell she'll be able to stay sane. They're going to drive her crazy. They'll make her lash out again. She'll be the reason why Frank would cry again.

She was pathetic - relying on drawings to keep her company. Her brother had his own life; always out with others. Where was she? Cooped up in her bedroom, hidden away. She had nobody... she was alone.

Susan heard the sound of talking outside in the living room and she hid her drawing notebook under her closer door before peeking out her door.

"She's been talking back too. Not only that - but when we kicked her out the house she knocked over my Christmas statue. She's been getting bold lately. And then she had the nerve to try fighting back yesterday after Frank dropped my dishes. That girl is asking for it. She's been acting out and I don't know what it is. I don't know what to do," Evelyn said as Walburga clapped her hands for Lanky to bring her some tea. Meanwhile, Martina rolled her eyes and drunk the rest of her drink.

"She deserves to be put in her place, Eve. You have to learn how to control her. Not physically, but emotionally and mentally, darling. If she fears you than she has no reason to fight you. Let's take my son Sirius for an example. He fears me. He's scared of me. Not even Regulus likes talking to him; he knows that his brother is a danger to our world. I wouldn't be shocked if Sirius ended up in some mass-murderer case in the Weekly News. That boy is a handful but I keep him in his place. That's what you have to do with Susanne. I mean, who knows what they were discussing when you found them in her bedroom? Who knows what they were doing? Those two are embarrassments and embarrassments have to stick together. That's how they think," Walburga responded and grabbed the tea out of a shaking Lanky's hand.

Martina looked down at the glass table when Walburga was done. If you looked close enough at her pupils... she was sad.

Susan shivered at their words. She thought the why they were talking was just plain cruel and sickening. Who in their right mind sleeps peacefully knowing they're abusing innocent children? Especially ones that aren't theirs. Why abuse your child in the first place? What's to gain from that? This witch is in here talking about how she feeds off of her son's fear! That's something a therapist needs to look into. They all need help. Including the blonde lady Martina. She throws her daughter out at every party. Don't bring the girl at all if you're going to do that.

"I suppose, Wally. At first I had her in the palm of my hands but ever since November, she's been acting out. Bloody Merlin, she's getting more slicker with the shenanigans she does. I try to have Alfie handle it - she's petrified of him... he's always away at work these days. She's embarrassing to take anywhere but we still take her places. She's embarrassing to have around but we still let her greet witches and wizards at the door when we have our annual parties. She's ungrateful. Ungrateful, I say!" Evelyn ranted on and Susan clenched her fist together.

Ungrateful. Ungrateful is not feeling or showing gratitude. What does Susan have that she should be grateful for?

A roof over her head? Lie. She gets kicked out of the house mostly everyday with Frank to survive out in the real world, she gets starved under this roof, she gets beaten under this roof.

Matter of fact, she almost lost her life under this roof. If that's something to be grateful for than so be it. What else should she be grateful for? She has a bed to sleep in? Lie. She's forced to sleep on the floor. What else should she be grateful for? She has clothes on her back? Ha! This one is sort of true but they're mainly clothes Susan has stolen. And let's not forget about her drawings. What? She should be grateful that she has a talent? A talent that she cannot express because she ran out of pages? A talent she cannot express because she cannot steal a spiral drawing notebook? A talent she cannot express because they would never give her galleons to buy another one? But surely Susan has reasons to be grateful, right? She has to be grateful for these people, right?

Susan has raised herself along with her brother.

They forced her to grow up too early and now she doesn't know what the word child means anymore. She isn't grateful for them and never will be.

Luckily she isn't homeless. Luckily she isn't an orphan. Luckily she has her little brother. Luckily she's still alive. Not once has Susan ever shown any signs of being ungrateful. She doesn't even know if she's grateful or not. She hates her life. She hates the reality she lives in. She hates having to be locked away. She hates getting beat for no reason. She hates how she gets talked to. She hates them. She hates her feelings. She hates how weak her aunt makes her. Weak. Weak is lacking the power to preform physically demanding tasks; lacking physical strength and energy. Weak is the word that Susan winced at. Weak is how she looks. Weak is how they treat her. Weak is what they want her to be. Weak is what they tell everyone she is. Weak is what Susan would soon learn to hate. Weak is what Susan would not be anymore. Weak is what her brother won't be. Weak is what she will keep her brother from getting at.

You wanna know why?

Weak is liable to break or give away under pressure; easily damaged.

Susan took deep breaths and un-clenched her fist. She didn't want to hear anymore of their sickening conversation about putting fear into their children so she went back to her bedroom. She had nothing to do in her bedroom. It was empty. She just noticed that.

Her bedroom was empty. Nothing in there but her and her drawings.

When Frank came in there he made it seem so full of life. But he's not in here. He's sleeping. And she's by herself. She's seeing it now. Her bedroom has no life in it. It's empty with a weak girl in it.

It's empty with an angry girl in it. It's empty with a tired girl in it. It's empty with an embarrassment in it. She didn't like it at all. She didn't like seeing how empty her bedroom was. She needed to start drawing again immediately.

Her drawings didn't look empty.

She felt empty. This room made her realise that it was the representation of how empty she was. She knew something was missing. She was void. But why was the void there? What was she missing?

After all the crap she's been through it makes sense for her to be empty. But then again, does it? After all the crap she's been through it makes sense for her to be weak. But then again, does it? She felt so much void. She could feel the emptiness inside of her. She rubbed her mum's necklace that was suppose to be her heart. Did her mum also feel empty? Couldn't have.

Her mum was always so happy. Nothing worse than feeling weak and empty. Susan couldn't believe it. She was empty. She was used up and empty. She was empty like a water bottle. Of course she was empty; where's her safe harbour, away from the gales and the storms?

Where is the fuel she needed to fill up? She felt like a ghost in a world of paper dolls. Susan wanted to tear that feeling out of her chest.

Susan looked around at her walls. Dull. Her walls were dull and empty. They lacked excitement. They lacked brightness. They lacked interest. They lacked happiness. They were just so plain and dull. Nothing to take her anywhere in life.

They were empty. They had no meaning. They showed her how empty she was. She was fully empty. She felt soulless. They did it. They finally did it. Whatever it was that her uncle and aunt was trying to accomplish, it worked.

They wanted reactions from her; they got them. They wanted her to seem weak; they got it. They wanted her to become so emotional to the point of where she couldn't control her emotions; check that off of the list. They wanted her to become empty; they got that. They've won. They've won.

Was it worth it? Probably to them. But it wasn't worth it in Susan's eyes.

She was empty. She felt nothing. She could feel herself feeling nothing. Her room had nothing. Her mind had nothing. See what happens when she can't draw? She notice her surroundings and faces the reality she always tried to dodge. Well, Susan now knows that she's empty. She feels dull and emotionless. But there's only one person that can save her.

But don't worry, he'll come soon.......

|Thank You For Reading|

Authors Note: This is the shortest chapter and it's not my best chapter but I was trying to stop someone from committing suicide while rushing to do this chapter (and trying to do a chapter about emptiness and loneliness after helping a depressed person doesn't make you feel like the best person). I just hope you all can understand the fact that I do not lie when I say I've witnessed depression and I've stopped suicide before. I've heard their explanations and I've heard the way they've talked about themselves. I've seen abuse before. I've heard abuse before. It just does something to me when people joke about wanting to die and when people joke about suicide. It isn't funny. It isn't at all. I've lost family members to suicide and I've known students who committed suicide. Don't fake like you want to die for fun because it's nothing to joke about. I hope you all enjoyed it like I usually hope and I'm not really satisfied with this chapter but whatever. We only have one chapter left in 1970 before I move on to 1971. In this chapter you sadly read how Susan recognized that she felt empty. It wasn't the best but I tried. I gave my best and I'll try and do better next time.

Extra note: I love you all and thank you so much for giving this story a chance ❤ I remember when I first created Suzin I didn't care about her at all and she wasn't that important to me. I tossed her to the side and worked on her from here to there. But that was back in 2017! Now she's my main priority and I love her so much. Thank you all for reading and I hope you guys enjoy your day 🥰

Question: Why do you think Susan feels empty?

|Love You All|