Bound By Blood.

ch.90~A fine line.

"We both know that isn't what you want. 

In fact, if I know anything about you, 

its that you don't stop fighting for what you want. 

So, why don't you just say what you really mean, Brookie?"

Recovered Translated Correspondents between Death Eater Mattheo Riddle, to Order Member Alexandra Brooks, 2004.

Riddle Manor, 2004.

Mattheo.

At some point the hexing stopped hurting, stopping burning. My body physically couldn't react anymore. 

And for a moment or two, her face disappeared from my mind, and I almost forgot what I was fighting for. 

Almost. 

It would've been easy. To let her go. To forget it all. To finally take everything I've begged for since I was fifteen. 

But those big brown eyes kept appearing right as I was on the cliff. 

I wasn't fighting my father, I wouldn't ever. Not when I worked so fucking hard to get here. Not when I gave up all that I had. 

I was fighting the fact that I was a disappointment to him. 

And me, sitting her, taking his punishment, was me proving I wasn't weak. 

At least to him. 

"If I find out its because of that filthy Order girl," he said once he was done with his fun, "I will not hesitate to end you, boy. Blood means nothing without loyalty. I will spill it."

And then, he was gone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As I stood under the lights of my bathroom, I could see every ugly mark my father had left behind. 

The black tiles mirrored my own dark thoughts, forming a  contrast against the crimson blood that clung to my skin like a twisted badge of honor. 

I peeled off my shirt, flinching at the sight of fresh gashes and bruises blossoming along my torso.

The worst part was he would take my wand, so I couldn't mend myself, a cruel punishment that left me feeling more trapped than I ever had before. 

Each jagged wound was a reminder—a reminder that I was weak in his eyes.

Just as I absorbed the pain, Blaise walked in without a knock, his expression a mix of concern and annoyance. 

He handed me his wand, nodding as he perched himself on the edge of the counter, eyes narrowing as he took in my state.

"How didn't you get it?" he asked, referring to the Horcrux, a thing of necessity in our twisted world.

I took a breath, the anguish curling in my stomach. 

A question thats been burning in my brain for six week now, suddenly slipped. 

"How did my father know about my correspondence with Brooks?" My voice dripped with bitter accusation, the words tasting like ash as I spat them out. 

I was sick of the beatings, sick of enduring punishment for something I had tried to keep hidden. 

All I'd ever wanted was her.