November 2035, Slytherin Common Room (Fixed Future)

Everyday was a struggle. Everyday she'd force a smile upon her face to mask her pain. Everyday she'd get up, ignore the throbbing, unbearable pain in her back, driving her to depths of nauseating hell. It hurt to stand, it hurt to walk, yet despite that pain she kept going. She ran, she jumped, she skipped, she joked, she laughed. Anything. Everything. Anything to mask the pain she felt. Everything to keep her family happy. And ignorant.

She was Lara Kaminski, born to two magical dynasties spanning back as far as anyone could remember. She wasn't some weak loner who wept and sniveled out of their own self-pity. She was a Slytherin, for Circe's sake! Such actions went against not only her upbringing, but her own personal values. Lara Kaminski was known for being wild, bold, crazy, out of control. She was known for being hyper, energetic, always ready for anything. Not for crying herself to sleep...

And yet, on most nights, that's exactly what she did. Ever since the flying accident that sent her plummeting hard unto the ground, 113 ft down, straight unto her back, it seemed all she ever felt lately was pain; Razor-sharp claws digging into the flesh of her back, often seeming as though they were trying to pull out her spinal chord. Sometimes, she couldn't even breath the pain was so bad. Yet despite her struggles, she still kept going. She still carried on with her pranks, her partying, her jokes, her comments, and all. That was what was expected of her, and even though it was pure torture to where not even gummy bears helped anything, Lara still kept going.

However, despite her rather strong determination, she was still very much human. While she allowed no one to see her weakness, she revealed it all to herself when she was alone. Desperate to have a moment to breath, a moment where she was pain free, Lara grew bold, and reckless. Little by little, she began to delve into other methods in an effort to alleviate her pain. Ones that would be more likely kill her.

Her Mother had given her potions, but it seemed Lara's frequent usage had built a tolerance within her, leaving her pain-relief extremely limited, making her pain even worse by taunting her with brief seconds of relief, only to have the pain return with a vengeance.

She bit her lip as another wave of pain hit her, leaving her gasping with pain as tears of anguish filled her emerald orbs. She fought the urge to cry out, instead grasping the wall of the common room for support, digging her nails deep unto the wall, mimicking the pain she was feeling. It seemed her last dosage of her "elixir" had run its course and she was in need of another.

Green orbs scanned the Slytherin Common Room quickly, noting that it was empty, aside from her. All the others seemed to be in class at the moment, where she was techncally supposed to be. Normally at this hour she'd be in Herbology, but opted to sit out for now. Not because she disliked the subject or anything like that. Quite the opposite in fact, for although she possessed little talent for Herbology, she loved the extra time she was able to spend with her Godfather. However, her current status made even the thought of standing for long, or hunching over to plant something nauseating to even fathom.

The teen took one last glance around her, ensuring she was alone before summoning a small, black box too her; her "lifeline", as she called it. With shaking hands she reached for the box, and opened it, revealing all the equipment: an emerald phial, a small violet bottle, and a mini-wooden box with a syringe and a small clear phial next to it. She smiled weaky at the sight before eagerly reaching for the emerald phial, more or less tearing it open. Inside the phial was a plethora of pills known as Vizodine: a highly effective pain relief drug, and a particularly illegal one, worth at least 5 years in Azkaban should it ever be found. Eagerly, she spilled 3 unto the palm of her hand, two more than the recommendation, and plopped it into her mouth, swallowing them whole. Once they were down, she reached for the syringe and quickly spelled the contents of the violet bottle into an IV, attaching it unto a well-established line upon her vein. Inside the violet bottle was alagaesia: another illegal drug, just like Vizodine, allowing for pain relief, utter relaxation, and a feelings and thoughts of happiness to play out within her mind in charades of ghostly bliss.

Lara breathed out shakily as she slowly felt the toxins flowing within her begin to interact, and the familiar numbing sensation begin to override her senses. It didn't matter to the young witch that the toxins within her were would cause more harm than good, that her heart was already straining and beginning to stress and speed up erratically from all of its damage received from Lara's efforts to heal the damage already done. It didn't even matter that should the wrong person enter the room and see her with her arm connected through an IV to a highly illegal drug, it could mean living with the dementors for her. All she cared about was that she felt no pain. Even though she lay in the common room, her back resting lightly against the wall, trembling slightly, feeling both hot and cold, and barely gasping for breath through her racing heart, all she could think about was, despite the ramifications, despite the dangers, in this moment, she was willing to risk it all to have her "elixirs". Even if it meant death.