T/W: Depictions of violence/torture, Brief mention of sexual assault, suicidal thoughts
***
Every monster's story concludes with the monster being defeated, and everyone is grateful. Everyone has been freed from its ominous and merciless presence.
However, most individuals do not consider what has to have happened to the monster to turn it into a monster.
Every monster you've yet to encounter was once a person. A person with a soul composed of suns. They were gentle and kind.
But someone took their light, their sun, and made it into something to be feared. A monster.
But maybe the monster isn't the one you should fear. Maybe you should fear its creator.
Monsters are only the product of other monsters. They are created out of instinct. The instinct of survival.
The instinct of survival doesn't have a limitation, and it only takes another monster to exploit it into something heinous, and that's when a new monster is born.
The monsters who only deserve darkness.
Or other monsters.
***
Blood.
Cold.
Dark.
Hands. Touching. Where they shouldn't be touching.
They shouldn't be touching there.
It hurts.
Make it stop.
Please stop.
It hurts, it needs to stop.
No.
Please.
Stop.
***
September 18, 2000
The earth was cold and damp beneath her body, the only warmth she could feel was dripping down her forehead, clouding her sight with a deep wine red.
She heard distant yells and explosions as she gingerly reached a hand to the wound on her forehead. Her hand moved to her eyes next, wiping the blood away from her eyes and down her cheeks.
Finally, she opened her eyes.
Gold hues met the dark sky, which was clouded with smoke.
She took in a deep intake of the air, which smelled of blood and death. Her dry lips, caked with blood, pursed together as she gathered all the strength in her body.
Hermione Granger let out a yell of pain as she jumped to her feet, shouting out a quick killing curse, hitting an oncoming assailant straight in the heart.
A purple curse went flying straight towards her, Hermione narrowly missing it with a quick drive to the ground. In seconds she sent a knife holstered to her calf through the caster's forehead.
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