Ineffable. [D. Malfoy]

one.

Esme was cold. There was a chilling sensation that swept into her veins, enclosing around her lanky frame to the point where her fingers would be blue if she could access light.

Her body was freezing. Her fingers were almost numb.

The cell was chilling. Esme's memory faltered, and as the day's passed, it became harder to keep track of the amount of time that had passed since the day she was captured. Had it been days, weeks, months, years?

She didn't know. Her mind would draw blanks, forbidding her to even obtain how she got captured.

The memories floated in the dark that boxed around her, sealing it as a possession. Something that shouldn't be hers for the taking. It was something that fell from the tips of her fingers, as she was required to show mercy. She had lost. But how? What had she done for all this to happen?

Sometimes Esme felt like she was going insane, but it was quite an understatement with how long she had lasted in the cell. The damage was already done. It stained her body with the unwelcomed reminders of scars plastered along the skin under her shirt. They were there; she just refused to peer at them. It made her feel dirty, and she was. It was what she told herself repeatedly.

Esme always hated the feeling of being alone. Isolation had its way; it was a befriending companion. But now she was used to it; her imprisonment allowed for her own isolation to sneak up on her. Over time, she let it; it was her only company alongside her thoughts. It was all she had left, the constant running voices in her head- that replayed like a broken stereo, unforgiving of all she had brought upon herself. Her brain was damaged.

Physically her skull was fractured. The injuries she had endured never healed; they stayed. It was a reminder; it was all a reminder.

Although her body differentiated from her mind. Her mentally was strong, a piece that held together. It was the one thing that hadn't abandoned her, alongside everything else that remained.

Her eyes peered around the dark abundance of the cell. A small toilet in the corner and a bed with a single blanket. That was all. 

Esme got used to the silence, to the absence of human interaction. She was defeated and left with nothing but dust and the quiet. To keep busy, she would read the one book she had with her, A tale of two cities. At times her eyes would strain just to read the tiny letters. The pitch-black colours of the cell become an obstacle for her to see the words.

Esme memories were fuzzy. Over time she had only been able to put one thing together, a friend, Scorpius. She could remember his silky platinum blonde hair, his smile, his laugh. But each time she pushed to try and remember more, her head began to hurt. A long-lasting pounding that made her want to crawl up onto the floor and cry.

But even that was taken from her—the ability to cry. As much as she wished to break down- there was an absence of the warm tears she so longed to feel. Without them, it made everything feel more surreal. She was living her own nightmare, and that was how broken she had become.

An elf came to send her meals twice a day, breakfast and dinner. In the beginning, she would rush to the front of the cell in an attempt to start a conversation; they must have been on a silencing charm because no one responded. No one answered for days. She always tried to make her voice heard, just to see if anyone else was out there or if she was truly alone.

But as time went on, it became harder to have hope. She started to give up. There was no knowledge if a day had gone by. Her routine consisted of the same each time she would wake. Wake, eat, read, and fall back asleep while fighting against her thoughts. She was tired of trying, of fighting. Life was becoming tiring. There was no point, no motive to keep her existence anymore. What was the point when she would be left captured inside the cell for the remainder of her lifetime?