Here, In My Head

Neville Longbottom [c] Madame JK Rowling, and in no way do I claim ownership of the character used in this piece. The song Here, In My Head is [c] Tori Amos. Same thing goes for the song.

In my head I found you there
And running around and following me
But you don't, oh, dare, now.
But I find that I have, now, more
Then I ever wanted too

It's twilight, evening, midnight. I hear the whispering already next door, as I look down at myself as I change into my bed clothes. My stomach muscles tighten as I inhale uneasily and look up into the mirror. I can not blame her for ignoring me, I really can't. My ribs can be seen as I twist my waist back and forth, back and forth, and only one word comes to mind as I do so: scrawny.

Not only am I scrawny, but I am also a "wimp", "joke", "mummy's boy" according to the jerk for which she has gone off with. He says these things whenever she's not looking, too busy to notice every fine detail. Literally, I'm an emotional (and often physical) punching bag. I trace the outline of my stomach with my fingers. If I where not so skinny, I might have been able to gain some muscle growing up, my eyes begin to narrow in disgust.

I unbutton my pants slowly and slide them off, gently setting them aside. I feel self-conscience now, even if it is just the mirror and I in this room, the moon gazing in from the windows afar. And even when I am dressed, I feel as vulnerable as I do right at this moment, nude, staring at that mirror. I wish I was more of a man so that maybe she would look at me for once, think something and maybe blush. I wish I wasn't as hard on the eyes as I guess I really am.

Shivering a little, I walk over to my bed and proceed to dress into my bed clothes. Buttoning down the shirt last, sitting on the edge, I recall her smile, how her eyes always seem brighter than everyone else's. Her perfect curls and milky skin, her cherry lips always so full... I can feel my face growing red at just the thought of those lips smothering my own. Her fingers laced with mine, her warm breathe bringing goose bumps to every inch of my body.

I tremble a little, pulling back the covers. I crawl into bed and pull the blankets over my head. I keep trying to not think about her, but every single night it's the same thing. I can't help myself, so before I know it I'm swept in to the ocean of her being, drowning in a wave of uncontrollable emotions. Her eyes dance, glaring down into mine with a coy, all knowing smirk. She touches my entire body, caressing and smoothing me down deeper into the bed. I would start whimpering, but from fear I am barely able to breathe, as she tries to coax me into relaxing.

So maybe Thomas Jefferson wasn't born
In your backyard like you have said and
Maybe I'm just the horizon you run to when she has left you
there, you, are here in my head and
Running around and calling me
come back
I'll show you the roses and brush off the snow and
Open their petals again and again and you know that
Apple green ice cream can melt in your hands I can't so...

But how can I relax? She is above and I am below, passive and submissive to her every desire, an orchestra of stars behind us. She whispers sweet things into my ear, licks her lips, than as quick as she began the sweet turns dirty, and I can feel the perspiration on my face and running down my neck. Back in reality, back in my own bed- I can't sit still for even a second. As I begin to dream of these things I imagine, knowing that she might be thinking of me or even saying my name in conversation at this exact moment drives me closer to the brink. I barely know myself anymore, lost in my own little world. Barely sane or alive, as my breathing begins to quicken as does my illusions.

Oh God, what am I doing? What would my grandmother think of me if she only knew? Hell! What would SHE think of me, that's really who I should be worrying about! I'm sorry! I just can't help myself from doing the likes of what I do! It's a drug, what I'm doing, and I'm addicted to it, every inch I'm growing so much closer! Closer to the edge, closer to getting enough nerve to becoming closer to her!

Oh, her hair, it's beautiful, her eyes-even more so! Let the moon shine down it's white holy rays on this hell in my bed room tonight! Oh God, I'm going mad, slightly crazier, minute-by-minute. I want to stop, I need to stop -but God's willing, no! I can not! All I can see is her heavenly face and her cherry lips telling me, in a voice so far off from her own, "The demons and the devils can see you tonight, your they're favourite pastime. Your tainted, your damned, your eternally gone; no mater where you go from here. Better not stop, better not dare...you have nothing left to aim for. Better make it quick, better keep going, better make it all worth the while, worth the risk. You'll regret not finishing the deed too soon when your blissfully damned anyways..."

No, no, I won't stop! I won't even dare try! Please! Let it be quick, let it be fast! End the pain! End it now! I can't take it anymore! But let it done in a hurry, and let it be over and done with, so I might still have time to beg and pray and cower for forgiveness, Oh! ...

I, I held your hand at the fair and
Even forgot what time it was
And even Thomas Jefferson wasn't born
In your backyard like you have said and
Maybe I'm just the horizon you run to
When she has left you and me here alone on the floor,
You're counting my feathers as the bells toll
You see the bow and the belt and the girl from the south all
Fav'rite of mine you know them all well
And spring brings fresh little puddles that makes it all clear
makes it all...
Hey, do you know, hey, do you know, what this is doing to me?
Here in my head.

It's silent, quiet, still now. I can feel and see my own breath. I have grown bothered in the after math, letting a window open on this cool, December night. I hate myself. I hate myself so much it's unbearable. That stupid mirror stares back at me, mocking me now or something, the lady in the moon trying to wane down her rays to comfort me, but again falling short, embarrassed-not wanting others to see her efforts, like the rest. I hate this world, but I still love her, still needing her. Rolling over, burying my face into a pillow, my cheeks are hot and stained with tears. I want her so bad, more than ever, but now I am even more ashamed and aware of myself. So clueless, so unworthy.... ....

And what's this? A knock at my door?? Dear God, so late? Were my thoughts and tears so loud that they could be heard? Have they come to make tease me, like they do in the day? Must it be both day AND night?! I bite my lip and try to ignore the persistent knocking, burying my face deeper into the pillow...

"Neville?..."

...It's her, my eyes wide open and my heart standing still. I stumble out of the bed and run for the door, snatching and opening it clumsily. "Ah, Ah..." is all I can stammer out, gazing down at her, blushing. "Can...Can I come in, for a moment?", but even so, she looks up at me...blushing as well.

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