There once was a girl.
She was sweet like a baby.
But you fucked her up.
Made her think she was crazy.
I'm that girl.
But I look different lately.
Cos now I'm a monster.
The monster you made me.
- Chloe Adams.
Magical Luck has changed, Magical Luck...
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There once was a girl. She was sweet like a baby. But you fucked her up. Made her think she was crazy. I'm that girl. But I look different lately. Cos now I'm a monster. The monster you made me.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Rosalie was always a sickly child, something in her was missing, trying to break out of its confinement, break the binds around it. She could hear it in her mind, something wanting out, she wanted it out too. It never helped that she was so weak, being beaten, molested, abused, by those who were meant to love her, care for her, and yet they hurt her. She believed it was all jealousy from her aunt, jealous of her mother, Lily Jane Evans, she was a beautiful woman, with red-hair, emerald eyes, fair skin, and best of all the magic, she was a girl born with magic. Her aunt, her uncle, and cousin hated that she was not normal. That she was not muggle. They blamed her father for that, they believed that had Lily married a normal man, she would have been born with no magic.
Her father was hated by many people, so they hated her too, all because she looked like her father, from the black hair down to her scrawny lanky body, James Fleamont Potter was a strong man, but he was still a little gangly.
She hated being compared to someone she had never even met, only being told that she had her mother's eyes. Nothing else.
Now though, Rosalie walked through Diagon Alley, her right hand holding her left side as she grunted in pain, her blood slipping from her wounds. She had been beaten once more, blowing her aunt up, she didn't care, the bloody woman deserved it, she deserved more. But her sweet Tom, the one who told her of magic, her parents, this beautiful world. He held her back; revenge should be planed to a tee. She would have gone to St. Mungo's for treatment, but she did not want the old fool to find her, and send her back, every year she pleaded to be freed, he turned a blind eye on her. That was where her hatred for the man began. Her eyes were watery as she looked around the quiet streets, not a single soul was awake yet, the sun was barley in the sky, it had not peered over the buildings. She was thankful for that, but she was more thankful to see the goblins were wide awake, and ready for the day.
