Strangers Anew [Cedric Diggory / Edward Cullen]

01. (I Feel Like I'm Dead) I'm Alive but I'm Dead

JUNE 1995 - Devon, England

Darkness.

Suffocating, enveloping darkness.

Cedric blinked as if to shake it away but it persisted, an impenetrable confinement. His eyes traveled desperately, searching for anything, anything at all, that might prove his existence beyond his feeble excuse of a conscience and root him into the real and substantial, into something larger than himself. But the darkness was overwhelming, creeping from the infinite surrounding into the crevices of his mind, until he felt his identity wiped away.

He was alone.

The darkness was everything while he was nothing at all.

And as it did him, the darkness sucked in everything else like a black hole. Cedric heard various sounds travel into the darkness. He heard the alternating whistles and whispers of the wind; the rustling of leaves holding forcefully onto jerking branches; even the wails of the dead, each an echo of loneliness and dread.

The sounds grew increasingly louder, until they became indistinguishable from one another and threatened to explode Cedric's head. He writhed in pain, jaw clenched and eyes shut tight.

Seconds passed, maybe minutes. Finally, the volume eased into caressing whispers.

Cedric lied immobile, head lightly pounding in aftershock. He listened to the soft sounds and found that with concentration, he could shift focus among them and isolate specific ones. He honed in on the wind - it howled as it blew past what sounded like foliage and stopped when it slapped against solid surfaces. Then, he tried to single out the wails, but he could not hear them anymore. Though, he was sure he had heard them when the sounds had overwhelmed him. He had heard pleas, even screams, so clearly that they had become indistinguishable from his own, intertwining with his own tortured thoughts.

They were gone, leaving him to welcome the stillness and emptiness of darkness.

And while the sounds had calmed to a lull, various scents began to stream into the black hole. The most striking was an earthy aroma, heavily concentrated around his being. It wasn't the good kind, the one that comforts one during rainy days or sun-bathed hours in the sand or mud. No, this aroma was tainted with what he identified as rotten meat and feces. He wrinkled his nose, the combination of smells nauseating.

But amidst the stench, like a flower blooming through cracked concrete, floral scents lingered and swayed. Cedric picked out the fragrance of jasmine. With a deep breath in, he found his headache soothed away by fond memories of plump lips and -

Blood?

Metallic, fresh blood. Cedric was certain of this. And despite the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke that mixed with the smell of blood, Cedric felt his thoughts and emotions pushed back with a brute and unforgiving force and replaced by a desperation in the form of fire spreading from his chest outward.

He jerked instinctively, fists punching the darkness in front of him and meeting something smooth and solid. His punch echoed in the chaos, the surface beneath him shook. Fire built up in the back of his throat and he felt as if he had never known and would never know water. He punched again and again and then, out of desperation, slammed his body upward against the surface.

Again. And again.

Blood.

His body needed it, craved it, and acted accordingly, though his mind stood in the background, a spectator of his unquenched thirst. In hindsight, the empty darkness had been a better alternative to his current torment.

Was this hell?

With one final blow, the surface caved.

Dim light met Cedric's eyes, though it blinded him and he brought his forearm to cover them. He paused, opening his eyes slightly as they adjusted to the light.