Astrid couldn't help it. The slap — more than deserved slap, hit Sloan's jaw with a a loud sound. Astrid could be patient when she wanted to, but not when she had a broken arm and next to the person she hated the most. Silence filled the nursery and the Slytherin juste leaned back against the bed head.

« Thanks for breaking my right arm instead of the left one. The slap wouldn't have been as hard if it had been the other way around. »

That's all she had to say.

Who was she to know if he loved her or not ? She said they just shared a book or something and then she's throwing that to her face ? And again, why was she even here ? Until now all she did was pissing her off, as if she wanted to rub salt in the wound and she certainly didn't need that.

« Next time you anger you'll be the one I'll wrap my fingers around. On your pretty little neck. Don't make me play parrots and get out. »

She should be grateful she wasn't even using her wand, as she didn't want to see if the spell would go back to her.

Why were they so dysfunctional? Probably the broken arm and all that shit, I agree. From the moment she entered the room she knew it would only taste of blood and disinfectant, they had always been moved by this unsolved hatred, rather than any... possible friendship. I guess it was easier to hate other people, than to hate yourself. Sloan had no difficulties in hating herself though, I won't tell otherwise.

It hits her cheek, all the anger, all the patience now non-existent, the last few years, the bitter distance that kept them from pushing the red button. It just blew apart, thanks to Astrid. Not that it was a great thing but, it woke the ravenclaw up and, she blinked; dumbstruck, stroking her face, in silence, as her glasses fell on the bed, somewhere, eaten by the sheets.

Yes it all turned red, it got redder from the moment she knew Astrid wasn't someone she cared about, she was just another stranger, having trouble dealing with her feelings and the lack of attention she would get from Benedict Jesus Westeylen. That's the only sick thing they had in common. Doubt. Loneliness? So nah she didn't actually figured out why the slap was... so much of a slap, for she didn't mind anymore. really, she was tired. Holmes crashed against Morgan, a silly car crash, mouths colliding instead of brooms. or bludgers. Kissing was much better than smashing ravenclaws in the face, usually, but there it. Tickled a bit. Now you do have a reason to strangle Sloan, sweetheart.

Astrid opened wide eyes when Sloan kissed her, and she needed a split second to process what the hell was happening. It sent shivers down her spine from disgust, as if she suddenly became homophobiac, and she pushed Sloan away forecefully, almost tossing her on the ground.

« What the fuck are you doing ?! Get off me and don't touch me EVER ! You psycho !! »

She rubbed her lips with her sleeve and even spat, fillling like her lips had touched something poisonous, like she had kissed a venomous toad. She then took her wand and stood on her feet, looking incredibly mad and threatening.

« I don't know what's going on in your brain but I don't want you near me anymore !! Next time I'll see you I'll fucking kill you Holmes ! Don't you dare touch me EVER again, you hear me ?! »

The ruckus attracted the few people that were here as well as the nurse and Bridgestone who tried to calm her down and took Sloan away since it was the obvious one that was disturbing Astrid, and they forced her to go back on her bed to calm down.
The thing was, Astrid didn't calm down, and even when Benedict came to see her, she told him to go away.

« I don't know either. » The cold-eyed girl commented with her fists clinching, candles dancing slowly behind them. Somehow, she went along with the weather, unexpected and unfamiliar, with those pieces left somewhere she cannot get to find for she had given up on it. The past, she couldn't get it right again. - So yeah, it seemed wrong, truly wrong, all of this, Astrid and her shaking hands on the wand with two balls of anger replacing torn eyes.

Sloan didn't know how to fix it. Fix any of it, for the girl attached to a bed, for herself, the memories of who she used to be yet wouldn't be anymore, him. Them, everybody around them. It was the moment children weren't exactly children and not totally adults. Yes, she still had the capacity to grow mute, to leave smiles here and there so no one would think she got hurt along the way. And it was stupid to kiss her, it was stupid, it didn't even mean 'it's okay, i'm comforting you.'

Astrid didn't find a friend in Sloan and Sloan didn't find trust in anybody, they were tormented by unforgiving tempests, and didn't know how to go back to Before. Actually Holmes was aware it was too late. « I get out. »

Obedient as hell, yet not alright.
She was too late.