she isn't what she says

Chapter 22: Alive

"How is she?"

"Her condition has stabilised," the healers reported, "but she'll need some time to rest."

"I understand," A worried Bellatrix answered. "I won't stay too long." After a nod from the doctor, she let herself into the room. 

"Valencia...?"Draco started. "She's alive." Bellatrix's calm voice said, and suddenly everything was a million times better. He closed his eyes again with relief etched on his features.

...

Valencia  had been in bed for three weeks recovering from her injuries in St Mungo's. 

Healers said her injuries were some of the worse they had seen. Wanted to keep her under close observation before they were sure the attack hadn't caused any other damage. Valencia was covered in bruises all over her body, she had inhaled a lot of smoke and had severed from broken ribs. She swore vengeance on the Order. "What's happened to Bill and Severus?" Valencia questioned as she sat up back in her bed at Malfoy Manor. Her mother stroked her cheek. Valencia could tell her mother hadn't slept, the truth is because she was terrified of losing her only daughter, whom she loved to death. "Dead." She replied. Valencia breathed a sigh of relief. "You don't have to worry about them anymore."

"We're here, we always be here."

"Anyway, pick a dress we're all eating with the Dark Lord tonight, after the meeting." Her mother said holding up three dresses, holding each in front her to show them. Valencia pointed at the long, black satin dress with puffy sleeves. Her mother kissed her cheek again before closing her bedroom door and heading downstairs.

Valencia finished her make up and layered a couple of bracelets on her wrist to cover her scars. Then she headed downstairs. The meeting had finished early and Valencia went straight up to bed, immediately writing in her diary.

Dear Diary,

"A villain must be a thing of power, handled with delicacy and grace. He or she must be wicked enough to excite our aversion, strong enough to arouse our fear, human enough to awaken some transient gleam of sympathy." Is what the Dark Lord said, this meeting. Yet I do fear, I do not meet these requirements fully.

The walls we build around us to keep sadness out also keeps out the joy.  I hate this feeling. Like I'm here, but I'm not. Like someone cares. But they don't. Like I belong somewhere else, anywhere but here. It's a bit like walking down a long, dark corridor, never knowing when the light will go on. I can't describe what I'm feeling. I'm not happy, and I know that. But I'm also not exactly sad either. I'm just caught right in between all these emotions and I feel so empty.

I'm exhausted from trying to be stronger than I feel. I have a massive secret, that I don't know how to tell. It's so terrifying that I can't even write it here.

Love,

Valencia Elara Lestrange