AN: The following is a study on my original character Sarah Cleelvans. I have a hard time with the female POV and Sarah's character has been a challenge for me to understand. We're trying to build some trust. In Potterverse (brought to you by J K Rowling), she's Dudley Dursley's girlfriend but I'd like to expand her world. To see Sarah in action, check out my story Recall Alice When She Was Just Small, on fanfiction . net, sans space of course.

Convicium

She rolls one and takes a drag lying in a scrunched up skinny heap atop dirty blankets ‘cause he must not have thought she was worth doing the wash and she thinks back to at least five men and three boys and god how did she get here again, she thinks, twisting her hair—he’s not going to make breakfast, he’s not even going to make coffee, he is just like the others, a big dick, low tolerance, deep voice, white teeth, and he seems to think her eye and her neck are both bullseyes for his fists with his cocky way of walking she should have started hating after she got rejected at fourteen by a bloke who she shouldn’t have ever let climb on top of her and she feels the beginning of a headache and tugs her black hair into a sort of trail of tears down her shoulder and cringes when she feels him kiss the nape of her neck in the dark of the hotel room.

She admires leathery hands, long stories, she likes when men have stories hidden in their eyes and cigs in their hands, she imagines them coming to her with their problems—this is a fantasy because it’s her that’s always running to and from them, fleeing over words and fleeing over hillsides on buses after eleven PM, she smoothes her hair and pulls on her skirt, the one she’s had since Year Nine that still fits over her hips, she makes a smiling proposition at a bloke who could be her type possibly, but she’s got to see if he’s mean enough first.

She doesn’t blame him when he pulls her by her flailing feet, wrenching off her heels and tugging her pants down from underneath her skirt because she is a slag and a slut and a fucking liar just like he says, and she’s sorry for crying when he pulls down his trousers because she loves him just as much as she loved the first boy and she should want this from him, it’s no big deal, right, she thinks about what time it is and maybe tomorrow it might rain, and she wishes she’d done her maths homework on time because she’s getting a failing grade, she tries not to look up because she might sob harder but she feels terrible because he’s still smiling and he’s just so nice and lovely, she wants a baby and a new life in London and she’s going to get it somehow or another.