Pack your bags. Right now. Only a rucksack, a backpack, or whatever else you call it.
You don’t know where you’re going, but you can’t stay here – wherever that is for you.
Are you ready? You don’t have long, so hurry up.
What do you have?
Personally, I packed:
- Laptop and charger, phone and charger
- Pyjama trousers, two shirts, jumper
- Four books.
- And a continuation of a letter I’ve begun months ago.
Your keys are in your jacket and your friend’s come to pick you up and you get the fuck out of there, not looking back.
‘Hullo, James,’ you say with a forced smiled. Knowing full well that as much as you don’t like it, you have become Sirius Black and you need a place to stay, far from your house. ‘I don’t mean to sound rude,’ your face is wet, your nose disgusting, ‘but can we get out of here, please?’