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Her screams alerted no one of the hell that was her mind.
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Cassiopeia Black, born to family of pureblood supremacists. With two brothers on completely different sides of the track, she's still struggling to decide what the best...
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Do you ever feel like you're floating? Your sensed are cut off and nothing matters. It's like you are underwater. Everything is peaceful. All that weight on your shoulders that you have been dragging around is gone.
Dead.
She was dead. She had to be. She was lost in the world around her, it wasn't real. It couldn't be.
Her vision of the world around her blurred. The greens and browns molded together and she couldn't tell one object from another. She blinked, and watched as trees upon trees came into focus. It was never ending. They encaged her in the unfamiliar world.
A groan interrupted the soft silence of nature. It was deep and rough, tearing at her throat, pleading for water. Her whole body screamed as she sat up. Twigs and rocks dug into the palm of her hands. She closed her eyes to calm her thoughts and ease the pain in her brain.
She steadied her breath, allowing the tickle of her charcoal hair against her cheek to take up her mind. Try as she may, fear crept up her spine. The cold breeze bit at her arms, reminding her that she wasn't home.
The girl carefully opened her eyes. Her bony fingers gripped into a nearby tree to use as a crutch to help her up. Her legs trembled at the weight.
Reaching into her boot, her hand latched onto a long, thin stick. Instantly, her heart calmed and security washed over her. She still had her wand.
She organised her thoughts, pushing the panicking ones away. Now wasn't the time. Safety first, panic later. The young witch struggled to make sense of her situation. Her first thought was that she had accidentally apparated away. But that was impossible, she had never apparated before and she had no limbs missing.
Besides, she saw the green light. She remembered how it blinded her before it struck, hitting her right in the chest and tearing her soul apart. She remembers screaming, did she scream? She remembered metallic eyes, distant and distorted.
"Hello?" Her feet stumbled backwards, she only just able to catch herself on the tree. In front of her stood a man, perhaps in his 40s. His hair lost some of its chestnut colour and wrinkles folded into his skin. He was a muggle, that much was obvious by his clothing. Either that or he associated greatly with muggles.
His arms were held up carefully, and he was taking slow steps. Towards her.
"I'm not going to hurt you, ok?" He spoke, keeping his voice steady. His accent was easily identifiable as American, making the girl's breath lodge in her throat. She pleaded in her mind that she was still in England.
