AURORA POV
Empty.
Hollow.
Vacant.
Pyrrhic.
They mean the same thing. If taken into context it could be taken any way.
She was empty.
She was hollow.
She was vacant.
She was pyrrhic.
All those make it seem like it's past tense. Not present. But saying, "she felt", instead of, "she was". Still nothing could describe the bottomlessness I feel inside. Like I'm slowly being swallowed whole by the void consuming me.
They say the dark mark is a symbol of the Dark Lord himself and the loyalty of his followers. But what is a Death Eater with no loyalty to the one it follows?
Blackmailed?
Compelled?
Infidelity?
Hostage?
Forced?
I always knew the world is a cruel place. People constantly bringing down others. Favoritism. Selectionism. Clicks. Degeneracy. Iniquitous.
But how do you define the difference between good and evil? Someone could be purely evil because life made them that way? How does that make one evil if they were a good person turned bad? How can you define someone as good when they're about to do horrible things? How can someone still be good and lie? How can one be evil but only doing it to protect those they love? How can one be the hero and one a villain? How can one simple mark change how the entire world views one person?
The thing is this mark is anything but simple. One sees this mark and run. Another sees and joins. Another can completely shun the owner of it. You can't tell who a person is without getting to know them. The difference is, who's telling the story. People will see this mark on my body and see me as a monster. Death Eaters see me as a disgrace. I'll be looked at different because of one pretentious mark.
I've done everything possible to get rid of it. Nothing can get rid of it. My arm is sore and I'm constantly in pain. Concealer spells don't work either. The black ink slithers its way through the makeup.
It crawls around my skin, constantly reminding me it's there. If I concentrate hard enough, I can feel my heart beating in my chest and feel the void growing bigger and bigger waiting to consume me whole.
I'm beginning to run out of long sleeves to cover the mark. The thinnest I go is lace. Even then I choose not to wear it.
The weather outside is getting warmer. Snow is starting to melt and the air indoors and outdoors leaves me feeling sticky and gross. Hermione has asked me why I wear such heavy clothing. I just tell her I'm still cold. She doesn't buy it. She knows I'm hiding something from her, but doesn't question it. She sensed my shift in attitude after that night at the Manor. I didn't tell her about it.
I can still feel the Bellatrix's grip, the wand piercing into my skin and the excruciating pain of the curse that was cast upon me. At night I can hear the ringing of my screams in my sleep. This left for many restless nights.
I sneak out of bed and just sit in front of the fire place thinking about everything. Getting lost in my own head seems like the way to go. I can't talk to anyone else.
Tonight's one of those nights. Sitting alone on the couch curled in a blanket holding back the urge to cry.
I wasn't this weak person but that's all I seem to be these days. I was badass, impenetrable, impalpable. Now I'm transparent. Every thought, every emotion, every break you can see with one look. You could look at me and say 'she's broken'. I don't want to be broken. But I am.
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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖚𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖋𝖑𝖞 𝕰𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙 ; 𝕯.𝕸
Fanfiction"Don't ever hit me again, understood?" He growls. I try and tug my wrist out of his hands. He only tightens his grip. He wraps his other hand around the back of my neck forcing me to look at him again. "Understood?" ~ "Get on the bed." He snarls. A...
