Jack had some much needed Quidditch time that she owed herself. The Triwizard tournament was off, because of some sort of mishap with the Durmstrang champion. She was no less busy. Classes were getting crazier, Potter's Army was picking up so that every week meant more and more work for her, and there was the seemingly impossible task of kicking the Gryffindor team's butt into shape.
Jack was tired. Of life. Or people. Of her family. Of her friends... If she had any friends, that was. She felt drained by everything. She walked into class and felt an overwhelming need to sleep or run. She laid down at night and turned left and right, rolled onto her stomach them her back, laid with her head hanging off the side, then her feet. She had not slept in the past three days and it was beginning to physically hurt.
She decided she was going to drive herself harder to try to break this weird streak. She had waken up incredibly early and went out for a furious run before jumping into the lake. The water was still frigid so that was a dumb idea, but she had still done a few strokes. She had run all the way to the common room and had cleaned the entire thing by hand. She had pulled off several daring pranks, had ventured into the forest, and then done all her homework.
It was almost midnight and she was still awake. She felt an anger buck in her. Why?! Why couldn't she sleep? It was killing her, she knew it. She could feel herself losing it, feeling her pain envelop her entire body. She had to do something. She had to, there was no other option.
So it was past midnight and she was flying in circles around the pitch at top speed, the wind keeping herself from breaking down again. She felt her heart rate accelerate, feel as though she were about to fall to pieces... and then push herself to fly faster, do a barrel roll, a loopty loop, a sharp turn... Anything to get herself to collapse.
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