Kathtera Artsinis

Pink! Everything is bloody pink. I can't stand pink! It is the worst color ever invented. It makes me sick to my stomach, it makes me want to curl in the fetal position and hide. This color sums up all of my childhood horrors. All of the popular girls loved pink. Those girls that only thought of who their next date would be. Those that would have been perfect candidates for loving divination had they been magical. My inner eye is telling me that I will wear pink tomorrow! Give me a break. Just because I was shorter than them, and slightly heavier......I wouldn't want to be a toothpick even if I had the choice. Family was no better. My sister loved pink. My perfect muggle sister. She wasn't a freak. She had to work hard for everything, she couldn't just magic it away. Like I could ever use magic outside of school! I never even suggested it...yet my parents still hated me. They thought I was a defect, that I was worthless and finally that I didn't exist. No, I could never like pink. Yet because of my job I have to see pink everyday, I have to deal with it every minute. I long for the day when I can go back to what I really look like and who I really want to be. For years I have had to live this way. For almost as long as I can remember I have been unhappy. I just want black and purple. Dark soothing shades of purple. Complete total and concealing black. I am miserable. I smile and people scowl. I wake up and wonder who is going to insult me today and how many times it will happen. I am doing what I most love yet I hate every minute of it. I am surrounded by people I highly respect yet they think I despise them and everything they have worked so hard to preserve. I have to pretend to be oblivious yet each insult and wayward glance is like the crack of a spiked whip across my back. I want so much to just give it all up, to yell out my true purpose, to just... be.... me. Sometimes I wonder if I even remember who I am.... I.....I remember my name! It is a unique name, I remember being made fun of because of it, but even so it seems so lovely after what I've had to endure. Kathtera. Kathtera Artsinis.

No. I must stop thinking about this. If I start now I won't be able to finish my job. I will ruin everything.

Looking around my room I see nothing but pink. I cannot risk anyone seeing anything other than the façade I present every single day. No one can suspect anything, even those who I know are trustworthy. I must fool myself into believing that I like pink. Ugh. The thought makes me want to vomit. Sitting for a few minutes longer staring at my garishly pink room tension builds inside of me. Getting up from my desk I run over to my sofa and begin tearing it apart tossing cushions and blankets into the air and obliterating them and the sofa without the barest of thought. Ripping books off of the shelves they soon receive the same fate. Letting the magic build inside of me I unleash my anger upon the room. A tiny part of me is screaming that this is a bad idea but I no longer care. The emotions I have been feeling for the past few weeks have awoken thoughts I believed I had buried beyond reach. Everyday people are mean to me. They hate me. Just like when I was a child. No one has been in the least bit pleasant to me. Even when they are polite I can sense the sneer in their voices. Hearing a knock on the door I freeze. I have gone too far. The room is in shreds. My desk is now a spot of dust on the ceiling. Turning around in a wide circle I panic, but only for a moment. Learning to calm myself rapidly has been the only thing that has saved me over these years. As I walk to the door I repair the room with muttered incantations. As I pass by a mirror that is pulling itself together I pause. In my haste to repair the room I hadn't noticed that my rage I had reverted to my true appearance. I wasn't the most beautiful woman by far, but I certainly wasn't ugly. My wide eyes were set in a heart shaped face that was framed by loose black curls. I was short but well proportioned. Sure, I could stand to loose a bit of weight, but I still was nothing like what everyone saw day after day. Turning towards the door as the knocking repeated itself I sighed. "Headmistress?" called an impatient voice. Yes. Headmistress. Oh what I would give to have legitimately gotten that title. I would have even settled for Deputy Headmistress, after all, I would have had more time to teach that way. "Headmistress Umbridge?" called the voice again. What an awful name. It disgusts me. I almost hate it more than the color pink. Almost. Changing I walk the rest of the distance to the door. Feeling the weight upon my body once again and the wide fake smile on my face almost sent me into another temper tantrum. The rational part of my mind tries to remind me that I am doing this for a good cause, that when all is said and done things will be better.

"Dolores?"

Opening the door and facing a displeased Minerva McGonagall my rational mind fails spectacularly in it's attempt.

"Yes Minerva?"

"You wanted to see me as soon as possible." She ground out between clenched teeth.

"So I did. We need to discuss your teaching methods. You do not teach effectively." I say, dripping sweetness and lies. Somewhat ironically she is one of the best teachers I know. I get a death glare as a response. I can see her grinding her teeth in an effort to keep her anger in check while figuring out a response that will not give me grounds to fire her.

Oh how I wish she would put just a bit of magic behind her infamous glares. I would love to be obliterated, for I am in hell. A pink sugar-coated hell.