❝We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on... that's who we really are.❞
After the tragic death of her parents in a car crash, Francesca Knight starts up a bakery, Sweet Dreams, to provide for her litt...
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In the dark of night, they retrieve Evan from his cell, use him against his will.
He no longer fights when the Imperius Curse is cast upon him. There's no use in fighting when there's nothing left to fight for. Everything he cares about has been ripped from him, his hopes and dreams a distant memory.
That is unless he can muster up the determination to break free.
At first, he was unaware of the pain he was causing. All his fears and worries and responsibilities were washed away, like the sand swallowed by the tide on the beach he visited when he was young. With a single word, he was at peace.
As the days bled into weeks and the weeks bled into months, awareness seeped through the cracks of the facade that was his curse. Through his trance, he was able to decipher what was going on around him.
In the beginning, it was his words. If he focused, he could hear a jumble of speech, almost foreign to him. He could only pick out bits and pieces of phrases. "Avada" was a common one to end it off, before he was engulfed in absolute silence. Then, he would walk himself back to his cell, only dimly aware of his surroundings.
When he was snapped out of the curse, everything came to a screeching halt. Like a broken clock restored to perfect condition, time resumed back to normal. As warmth spread throughout his body, a blazing fire of rage engulfed him.
A year had passed since they captured him, and began to use him in this cruel, endless cycle of control, kill, repeat. He yelled, he swore at anyone who was there to listen, shook the bars of his prison until his fingers bled. They let him speak just to suffer, only to torture him with the Cruciatus Curse after his energy had long run out.
That moment took him back to his childhood, teaching him a lesson he hadn't heard in years: don't talk, just obey. From that point forward, he bottled up his rage, waiting for his time to strike.
"Get up," Walburga spat. When he didn't move from his position on the concrete floor of his cell, she unlocked the door with a wave of her wand, repeating herself, "Get up!"
With a cold glare, he stood up, locking eyes with the cruel woman. Don't talk, just obey.
"Good," she smirked, pointing her wand directly at his chest. "Imperio!"
A familiar wave of calm washed over him, his pent up anger and stress slipping away. He no longer felt burning rage towards his captor, he was numb. He was compliant. Wait for your time to strike.
With no control over his body, she forced him to disapparate out of the dark manor and off into the night. A very faint sense of familiarity tugged at the back of his mind, but he dismissed it, stepping towards a large brick house.
He blasted open the front door, stepping into the home. In his trance, he could hear a young girl's scream, but it sounded far off, distant. Loud footsteps echoed throughout the house as his body moved on its own, looking for his next victims. The slam of another door—the back door—alerted him that they had fled outside. Turning on his heel, Evan walked back out the door he had broken open.
