She gawked at the blood on her hands, her mind whirring with queasiness. She trailed lapidified eyes over the singular cadaver that was sprawled on the stone, limbs tangled and body distorted as their last moments were met with a struggle.
The stench of decay pervaded her senses, unmistakeable in its acidic, bitter nature. Bloodied vomit puddled on the floor around her, and like a marionette with its strings cut, she fell to her knees, though not in mourning.
Darkness overflowed her vision as she lurched backward, knocking over a lamp from its position. Her sobs echoed gut- wrenchingly as they screamed for her sorrows. Her calloused fingers wrapped around the fabric of her nightgown, tainting the material with the crimson, sinful sanguine of her mentor's demise.
She barely registered the heavy hand on her sleeve, pulling her away from the gruesome scene. Her vision was clouded by dewdrops of grief, and the air in her lungs had turned glacial; it pained her to breathe. The winter climate bit at the girl's skin as the young man hauled her out of the house.
She clung to him, whose curly black hair rested perfectly on his head, who's slender cheekbones could cut marble, and who's gentle grey eyes regarded her frigid ones. Gone was the puerile light from her eyes, and instead, in the depths of her irises, there was an erring smoke that seemed to engulf any purity. She sank down, to the ground, breathing deeply.
Fear had manifested its malignant mannerisms into the essence of which she consisted. A sort of consternation that drove people to do cruel, harmful things; but anything to avoid their own suffering.
That was why she'd torn the now day-old corpse from the inside out, and she'd felt no regret doing it. She held not a shred of remorse, she only wished she'd done it sooner.
She stared at the blood on her hands, then looked back to see the young man wasn't there. He never had been. It was just another figment of her imagination, a further demonstration of the hazy amalgam of reality and fiction that her mind her created, so it was now impossible to distinguish what was real and what was not.
She closed her eyes, and tried to calm the waves of terror which crashed against the fractured coastline of her soul.
This is a FLASH FORWARD. It will make sense later.
a/n- I will take a little break before getting started on part two, just to map everything out in a bit more detail <3.
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Silent Riot | Regulus Black
FanficSome people were born to lead, to defy oppression outright, and make their voices heard. Others were meant to resist from behind the shadows, where nobody saw them. Gemma does not want to fight at all. But as everyone she loves chooses opposing side...
