CARE

"Reece, breakfast is in ten. Shower and brush your teeth before you come downstairs." Grandma said.
     Every morning, like clockwork, my grandma woke me up for breakfast and told me the exact same thing. So, to make sure nobody would care that I didn't show up, I'd do exactly what she says. Also because she scares me a little bit. She's been like this since I first moved in with her and my grandpa almost three years ago.
     We only have one bathroom in our house, and for some reason I always have to use it after Grandpa. Last night was taco night and I'm starting to wonder if breathing is an absolute necessity. It's a small house anyways, it was only made for two people and an occasional guest.
     Emphasis on occasional. As in, once in a blue moon. Not a third person living nearly full time. Living wise, I'm sort of grateful that I live at Hogwarts for the majority of my year. It's a lot more spacious and easier to avoid people I don't want to talk to. Especially in the staircases leading up to Ravenclaw Tower, with all of the little nicks and ledges below the steps, I could hide there for hours.
     In complete honesty I am a morning person, and a night owl. Sleep isn't really my thing. It doesn't come naturally to me, unlike staring at words on a page until my eyes burn. Most nights I'll only get a few hours of sleep, but it's not like I'm running a marathon and using up all of my energy. I'm still resting, I lay down and stare at my ceiling or the stars or the curtains or anything that entertains my eyes for the sleepless nights.
     It's September first, and it's still too hot outside for my liking. A lot of people always sit on the train and complain about how chilly the breeze was, while they completely ignore the sun. The big bitch in the sky that's giving all of us burns and skin cancer as the muggles say. I believe them, even though they're normally wrong about everything else. It's easier to believe them rather than my fellow students.
     September first isn't a fun day for me. It's the same every year: Grandma wakes me up, I get ready for the morning, we eat breakfast and have a very conflictive conversation, we go visit my dad, then we go to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. We don't have much variety in our routine but I don't really care.
     "Morning, Peanut," Grandpa says. He gave me that nickname before I was born because my parents wouldn't tell them if I had a penis or vagina. He and I have a very similar sense of humour. Dark, inappropriate, and mostly jokes between the two of us. I think he's the only person I still love with my entirety.
"Morning Grandpa," I reply taking my seat in between my grandparents, "Did you sleep well?"
"Am I invisible here?" Grandma asked, a stern look on her face.
"Did you guys sleep well?" I corrected myself and her expression changed to be smug.
"Quite well, thank you very much." Grandma said, sipping her tea.
That's a stupid face. Why are you so smug? Huh Grandma? A bitch in Hogwarts and a bitch now. Sip your tea, jerk.
     I love my grandma, not completely, she just doesn't have a filter. For the past three years she's been going on and on about my mother. It's almost the three year anniversary since she left, and she's basically practicing everything she'll say on the anniversary.
     "She doesn't understand how to be a mother. Angelica, a stupid girl from the beginning, didn't deserve our dear Christopher. She was nothing but trouble. A dirty and dumb Gryffindor. She's ruined our son, Richard." Grandma says this as if I'm not even here.
Grandpa takes a breath, "Claudia, now is not the-"
"And she left. She left Reece and Christopher heartbroken after Casper passed. It's like she thought that she was the only person in the world."
Takes one to know one.
"And now you and I are caring for Reece as if she's our own daughter, and Christopher is in constant need at St. Mungos."
Obviously I'm just a burden, just say it already. You don't care.
I could imagine the tears forming in my eyes, I could see myself crying in front of them. I imagined what it would be like, for grandma to shut up and for them to hug me as I cried my eyes out. As I let everything go, and finally took the breath that I needed.
But our imaginations always lie to us. I know that they wouldn't hold me as I poured out every single feeling I've held in for the past two years. They couldn't care enough if I only cried for the rest of my life, they'd just tell me to suck it up and stop. Grandma always reminds me that so many people have it worse than I do: like my dad.
     My dad basically lost his sanity after my brother died. It was nearly three years ago now, three years since he died and since Mom left. He couldn't really handle any of it. Dad sorta just crumbled under the pressure. A few weeks after he died he seemed to be doing better, but then Mom left and everything he had worked for just vaporized before us. He basically just stopped functioning. He couldn't take care of me anymore, so now I live with his parents.
     "Reece, are you all packed for school?" Grandma asks.
     "Yes," I reply dryly, "It's all at the front doors. I put it there last night."
     "Don't use that tone with me." She snapped.
"I think that we're all just a little tired, let's not bicker today." Grandpa stepped in.
"Oh shut up, Richard," She rolled her eyes.
"Let's just go." I finally say, tired of the fighting.

     St Mungos is supposed to be the cleanest place in the Wizarding World. But the smell makes me wanna gag and loose my breakfast every time I come inside. It's a stale smell, and the tension in the air is just something unexplainable.
Grandma calls it a "tradition" to visit my dad every year before I leave for Hogwarts. He's been in St Mungos ever since my mom left. Another thing is, I dread this tradition with every part of me. My dad isn't necessarily the welcoming-warm-hug type. Whenever he sees me he acts as if I'm a ghost, with the exception of his occasional glares.
I know why he doesn't like to see me. He doesn't like to look at me, I remind him too much of my brother Casper. Casper was Dads pride and joy, so when he passed, a part of Dad went with him. So now, he hates to see me. No matter what, he'll never look at me like I'm his little girl again.
     Grandma and Grandpa immediately embrace Dad in a hug when he sees them. A glance is spared in my direction, but not much else is given. I'm a ghost. A ghost to my own father.
     The three of them catch up, I'm not even brought up in the conversation. None of them care that I'm in the room, shifting from one foot to the other. Nobody in the entire world is thinking about me right now. There's not a single person that cares.
     Oh well I guess.
     After at least ten minutes of them visiting each other, I step into the hallway. It's not complete insanity so I sit on one of the empty beds that was left outside of Dads room. Doctors, nurses, patients, and visitors all walk by me, not paying any attention.
    I even see a kid from school, I think his name was Lucas or something. He's the cousin of one of my old friends. I don't really associate myself with her or her family anymore. All of them are stuck up snobs.
     He smiled at me. I didn't smile at him. I know it was fake, because who in the world would actually care about me.

Honestly I don't know what I'm doing at this point.
Love you guys :)