Pʜᴀɴᴛᴀsᴍ || h.p.

prologue

A hiss writhed at her skull, manifesting her dreams each night despite the excruciating efforts for it to cease. Her veins pulsed violently and threatened to burst as her knuckles turned white from grasping the bedsheets. And each morning, she'd burst awake, gasping for air in the fear of what had happened.

It'd started at the end of the last Ilvermorny school year and there would be no reason to doubt the reason of its presence. She had known since her first conscious thought that she was abnormal. There was something that made her feared with a single glance or a slight twitch. She hadn't known any family–any real family. She had never known love for half her life, yet she still doubted its presence. Perhaps her love was a wisp of imagination–an undefined feeling with a false label. Any wish she had was to be spared of the curse of unloving. The abnormality and lack of affection tore her apart to plead  to be like everyone else.

She was terrified of what she saw in herself. Her raw self had an uncanny resemblance to the Dark Lord. Perhaps she, too, would fall into a mania.