sapphire || fred weasley

seventy-one

Beatrice woke up on the small and not so comfortable bed, in the room she had been confined into for the fifth day.

The room was slightly dark since there wasn't a window that allowed natural light inside, and she could definitely smell humidity in the peeling emerald green wallpaper.

She stretched her arms before finding the will to get out of bed and proceeding to stretch the rest of her body.

Beatrice knew that if she didn't make herself a routine, by the time she managed to escape and kill Fred she would have already lost her mind, so begrudgingly she began exercising furiously.

She wanted to kill Fred. She really did.

She wanted to take his eyes out with a spoon and cut his tongue off with a butter knife.

He would be the cause if she ever lost her mind.

He spoke too much. More than he should have.

She would much rather be tortured again and again with the cruciatus curse, than listen to him speak.

Than observe him as he touched the stone walls and iron gates of her mind.

She wanted him dead and wouldn't stop until he was.

She did know however that if she wanted to kill him, she would eventually have to resort to fighting him physically.

And it meant that she couldn't let go of her physical condition. And from the way he was feeding her, if she didn't exercise and keep herself strong, her body would go to shit and she knew it.

And she needed her body to kill him.

But Beatrice couldn't deny that Fred's cooking was indeed out of this world. Though she would never admit it out loud to him.

Every bite was like tasting and piece of heaven and she couldn't get enough. And then she remembered it was only the fourth day.

He never failed to bring her a warm and fresh plate of food for three meals. He delivered glasses of water and juice and always left dessert for after lunch and dinner. Either if it was a cookie or a slice of a cake of some sort, he always left something sweet accompanied by ice cream for her.

She hated him.

Because she didn't know how he knew that ice cream was her kryptonite.

And he knew how she drank her coffee and what he liked and what she didn't like. Because so far, every meal were things that she adored and had no recollection of liking before.

After she finished her short but intensive exercise routine, she took a shower and lathered her body with the body moisturizer that she assumed he had left for him. It smelled like vanilla and she loved it.

She still hated him though.

She brushed her teeth and used the facial products also left for her, and for the past days she had been using them she could notice that her skin was radiant and bright. Unlike how it was before she was captured.

She dressed herself with the large selection of clothes that had been left for her in the small wardrobe. Everything fitted like a glove, except some of the trousers that didn't move past her hips.