Soteria

CHAPTER 8:

She was resting on something cold. Something substantial and frigid yet had a sort of softness to it.

She detected the aroma of refinement and cleanliness. It smelled expensive, yet it had this sort of old smell. Something antique. Valuable.

Her ears were muffled, yet she could hear the whispers and murmurs with frequent screeching.

She swallowed.

She could taste iron.

Blood.

Her eyelids felt heavy, yet she felt wide awake. Was she dreaming?

She opened her eyelids, her eyesight blurry.

Bright.

White.

Could it be?

She began staring closely at the light, her vision becoming more focused.

Her retina displayed an image of a large, suspended scintillating fixture, encompassed with multiple branches each attached to a round glass, illuminating her surroundings.

She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling. She was shaking uncontrollably for some reason. Why? She didn't feel cold. As opposed to that, she felt hot and sweaty, like she had ran a marathon.

Pain.

She felt pain everywhere.

Lingering inside her, through her veins. Inside her bones.

Where was she? What had happened? Why was she lying on this hard surface? Where was Luna? Dean?

Ivy let out a moan, unaware of whose interest she had just captured.

Footsteps approached her as she shut her eyes tightly, trying to reminisce about where she was and what had happened. Her eyes snapped open to a familiar voice. Once more, she trembled. Why did she feel afraid?

"Well, well, well." The feminine voice cackled, "It seems that the little filth is awake. Ready for another round?"

The voice sent shivers down her spine. Why did it seem familiar? Why did she know this woman?

"Crucio."

She then felt excruciating pain spreading throughout her body, infiltrating through her veins, muscles, tissues, nerves, and bones. She had the impression that she was being held down and bathed in boiling water until she could feel her skin, flesh and tendons peel off. She sensed something sharp, vicious, and hurtful slicing her skin. Just unbearable. 

Her throat ached. Her vocal cords felt as though they were being strained to the brink of breaking. Her ears were no longer muffled. She could hear screaming. 

There was so much screaming and laughter. 

Her mouth was kept brutally wide open. 

She was screaming.

Ivy had felt this before.

She started to recall her whereabouts.

She was in the Malfoy Manor, lying on the drawing room floor.

Liquid began streaming down her eyes as the pain intensified.

She remembered why she was here. She knew something. She knew something or about someone. She held vital information that this woman wanted to know. She didn't understand, though. Instead of using the one where she may reveal her secrets, why mingle with the unforgivable that torments one?