Some things stick with you forever. For me, it's May 2, 1998. The Battle of Hogwarts. The day I lost some good friends. The day my second home became a war zone. The day a man I once trusted showed his true colors.
The biggest thing then was survivi...
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Time had no concept anymore.
It sure seemed like just when I was getting back to a normal, grimy state, I would be chosen yet again. Sometimes I wondered if there were exceptions where the lottery wasn't so random.
I was nearing ten matches, I knew that much. I was somewhere in the six to eight range, but I wasn't positive. All matches I won, begrudgingly. The more I dueled, the less fear came with each dramatic entrance into the arena. My opponents changed on me: an older man with a fierce drive to live; a young boy who clearly had a dark side to him; an expecting mother...
Their faces flashed in my dreams and most times when I blinked. The expectant mother was the latest and most frequent guest. She had been Imperiused, and I hadn't known until the match was over that she had been pregnant.
With each victory, I was rewarded. Hot water and food. I kept to myself, regardless of my Death Eater escort. My soul was being ripped apart with each match. Maybe that was part of it—if Death Eaters believed we won enough matches, we'd break, cave, and ask to join them.
There were less newcomers, at least with the women and girls. I couldn't say for sure about the men and the boys. Some cells were completely empty now, so some rearranging had been done. A few nameless women I never got to know got moved first.
I leaned against the cage door, my spirits low. Despite my stomach being recently filled and my body odor lowered, I wasn't happy. I hadn't seen sunlight or the skies in what I assumed was weeks, perhaps going into month territory. Ember and Bree were slowly not talking to me with each passing reluctant victory on my part.
I scooted away when a Death Eater approached the cell, sticking to the cold brick wall. It was not Liam or Brian, so I knew they weren't here for me. Bree started her quiet sniffling in her dark corner. Ember stood on shaky legs.
"Who's the lucky girl today, warden?" she asked.
"I'm glad you asked. It's you." The Death Eater's smirk chilled me through my bones. His eyes caught mine and he gave me a nod of acknowledgement. "You must feel so honored, to be in the presence of such a notorious victor."
"Oh, yeah, we're just beaming with pride about her being forced to kill people. Total role model of the year." Ember crossed her arms. "I was just hoping for the day I got my turn."
Bree shot out from her corner, grabbing Ember's arm with small hands. "Don't leave."
"I...I'll come back," Ember said through a thick tone. She looked to her escort. "Well, we're not getting anywhere if I'm stalling." She gently pried Bree's hands from her arm, following her escort out. Bree went to the closed bar door, almost trying to put her head through.
"I-I don't want her to go," Bree whimpered.
"She won't," I said quietly. I scooted myself away from the brick wall back to my spot. "She'll do what she has to."
