27 October 1980
When I woke up I thought I was sick or something because I had no memory of what happened.
Now I remember but that was the scariest fucking moment of my life because I couldn't remember anything after leaving the house on Sunday and I was bleeding and every goddamn thing hurt.
By all rights I should be dead but I'm not and I don't know why.
I should be dead.
But I'm not.
God I'm tired.
They say they hit me with a curse that tore open my side, that I was hit with several rare hexes, and a bottle was broken over my head, and that there was a round of Crucio to round the whole thing out. That I was unconscious because I bled out, through my head and my side, and the Crucio was the icing on top of all that.
I don't remember fighting. I just remember hitting the floor.
Jo says write about it to see what you can remember but I still can't remember much. I probably won't have scars, right?
Whatever. Ow.
Hey.