Working Through Fear

Notes

I don't know how long I lie in the dark, unmoving, crying quietly into my pillow. The only thing worse than the darkness is the constant lack of noise. The bustling of the corridor is gone. And it's terrifying.

I don't know if they'll ever let the light back in. With every passing moment, I manage to convince myself further that they won't.

I haven't let myself sleep. If Elise is still outside, she might be happy to see that I'm 'drinking' the water that appears in here every so often. I splash it on my face. It keeps me awake.

It allows me to remain, curled in the centre of the cell, shaking. I don't know what I'm waiting for. No one is coming to rescue me. Why on earth would they?

Harry Potter did this to me.

Harry Potter is the saviour of the wizarding world.

And I am the uncooperative dirt on his shoe. On everyone's shoes.

I've moved past the idea of fighting that thought. I ran past it months ago, barely giving it a glance. It probably deserved more than that, but so did we all.

I suppose I have to give Harry credit for getting one thing right; he told me I couldn't remake my life, that I would always be an orphan.

He was almost right.

But I won't always be an orphan; I will always be a prisoner.

A prisoner who doesn't eat. A prisoner who doesn't sleep. A prisoner who doesn't obey. A prisoner who is afraid of the dark. And a prisoner who repeats the same, constant, mad mantra to herself.

I wipe my silent tears away, trying not to hit myself with my shaking hand. It's cold. Too cold.

I don't remember it being this cold before. But, then again, I don't remember the floor being damp. I don't remember the violence of the sea, and I don't remember the silence.

I take a shaky breath, and then I begin screaming. The sound bounces off the walls and echoes until I've built some sort of strange harmony in my tortured voice.

For the first time, the sound of screaming is unpleasant, but I don't stop. I can't. The feeling of noise and force ricocheting around me, the feeling of power, how pained, is all addictive. Even in these short moments, I can't stop myself.

I scream until I can't make any more noise. And then I keep trying. I keep trying to feel the pain that I want to feel. Not because I deserve it, but because it takes my mind to a quiet place.

When there are too many noises, it's always easiest to drown them all out with a single, louder noise. It's less to focus on, at the very least.

So I scream until my throat burns like fire. And then I have to let my thoughts return. They are the same. Neither louder nor quieter.

A knocking sound begins to mix itself into the silence. I ignore it, or I try to. It's in my head. All of this is in my head. I'm going mad. Unless that's in my head too.

"Delphi!" a muffled voice calls. "Delphi, we're going to come in!"

"No!" I scream, rolling madly. "No! Leave me alone! Get out of my head!"

But the door opens anyway, slowly, the splinters of light becoming cracks, that become beams.

I scream again, burying my head in my knees, shaking violently.

"Delphi!" Someone is kneeling next to me, their hands on my shoulders.

"Get off me!" I shout, my throat burning.

"Delphi, open your eyes," the person whispers. "It's me. It's Elise."

I can't stop myself shaking, but I open my eyes slowly, trying to accustom myself to the return of light. Elise is kneeling next to me. I look at her, and then I begin to cry.

I can't stop my tears. They come, and Elise tries to help me sit up. But I can't. I can't move into the light. The dark terrifies me, but I can't look at the light. I can't go to the light.

"Move away from her," someone else says. "You're not permitted in the cell."

"And we're not permitted to leave her in solitary confinement for over forty-eight hours," Elise snaps. "But here we are."

"Elise," I whimper.

She helps me to sit up, and this time, I don't stop her. She takes my hand and I look around, eyes half closed.

"Delphi," Elise frowns. "Delphi, you're soaking wet."

"Water," I mumble. "It stopped me sleeping."

"You haven't slept in five days?"

I shake my head. It doesn't feel as if it has been five days. But you can't apply a timescale to eternity.

Elise bites her lip and I feel her place something in my hand and she stands up and steps back. I keep my fist curled as I watch her walk backwards towards the cell door.

Then I turn around and open my fist. In the centre of my palm is a note, written in small, spidery handwriting.

You're leaving tonight.