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My Prison by blackthoughtsredwriting
Chapter 1: My prison
To my bondage I saw no end. It was a terrible and grim realization, and I shall never be able to tell how depressingly that thought took hold of me.
It has been almost a month since the Dark Lord had killed the chosen one, the one who was supposed to destroy what others could not. It has been almost a month since the Dark Lord killed Harry Potter.
I myself was secretly hoping against everything that the Dark Lord would be defeated, but as with all of my hopes and dreams, they never become a true reality.
I joined the Dark Lord and his ranks in my sixth year of schooling. I thought I was doing the right thing. Pressure from my father combined with my want to be accepted drove me to make the biggest mistake of my life.
At the time, I thought that I was doing it because I wanted to. I thought I would enjoy it. I know different now. I know now that that was the biggest mistake of my life.
I guess this all starts back with my father even though I don't consider him the same anymore.
I had always been taught principles and values by him. I followed what he told me blindly without knowing that people had many different values then what my father had.
He taught me the weak needed to be cut out of our society for the need to keep the strong strong. He said that the Dark Lord understood this fully and knew the way to go about eliminating such problems.
Eliminating the problem in the Dark Lord's mind meant torturing and killing numerous muggles and innocent people.
The thought sickened me. How could someone be that cruel?
I should have seen what I didn't. I should have done that I had not done. I should have realized what I was getting myself into when I accepted the Dark Mark on my arm on my own free will. I wanted it!
Now the ugly mark upon my skin remains as a constant reminder of my stupid mistakes and my unending slavery.
I think my mother tried her hardest to help me along the way even though there wasn't much she could do.
I think now that I was destined to be what I am because I know that no one could have and still can't have saved me from it.
The only person really, would have been Harry Potter but the Dark Lord had defeated him and all hopes of being freed from the shackles and chains that bonded me were squashed from my mind.
I had pretty much given up hope after that. My mother always told me to never give up hope, but I don't think even she, the bravest person I know, could have made it through this.
There was one time when I thought that I could actually escape my prison, and it happened in the form of a bushy headed girl that I was taught to hate.
Hermione Granger was what my father called filth, having no magical history in her family. She was lower than scum in my fathers eyes therefore I had to tell him that I was befriending "filth" to get information on Potter.
Hermione understood me better than anyone else. She was pretty much the only person who did.
I felt like she was my one escape from the hell that I lived in. I could be myself around her and not be scorned upon or feared.
I lived my life in almost constand fear, except for the times I had with Hermione. I was never guarenteed to even live another day but I did, and I have Hermione to thank for that.
I guess you could say I was leading a double life.
So that is what my life consisted of: constant fear, ridicule, abuse, and the treasured moments I spent with Hermione.
I'm ashamed to admit it, but I found myself wishing my father would just meet his end. I no longer wanted him to live. He put me through so much and finally just snapped.
I killed him in the final battle. I was horrified yet satisfied at the same time at what I had done.
Instead of punishing me like I thought he would, the Dark Lord rewarded me.
I was now recieving atention and even admiration from the other Death Eaters. I also gained trust and respect. That's something I never would have expected.
I was now what I had always wanted to be, accepted.
But the feeling I got after I was accepted stayed the same.
I thought I would like being accepted but after I experienced it I told myself I would rather much do without it.
I continued serving and doing the Dark Lord's commands even though I didn't want to. I think he knew I didn't want to because everytime we met face to face he would stare at me with those horrible red eyes as if he could x-ray me. Like Dumbledore almost but way worse and more uncomfortable.
So I ended up going so far the way that I chose that I ended up too far in to pull out.
And then the Dark Lord killed the Weasley parents which completely devastated Hermione.
I was angry at the Dark Lord. He had hurt Hermione and that was one thing that I never wanted to happen.
I was tortured for treason and conspiracy to plot against the Dark Lord for the revenge I took out upon everyone.
I was watched carefully from then on out. They knew that they could not trust me anymore. I was back where I started.
I'm suprised more than anything that I'm still alive. I would have thought that by now they would have killed me. My father once told me that the Dark Lord's mind works in mysterious ways and it would be best not to question him or his authority. I found that to be true.
There was still hope though. For me, no. For everyone else, yes.
Harry and the Weasley girl had a baby before Harry died and they named it Nathaniel. I think that the prophecy could mean Harry's child. I think there's another hidden prophecy somewhere. I think that the child is the chosen one. I mean, it's not possible that the world is destined to let evil consume it and everyone live in darkness. There just could not be a way at all.
Good always prevails in the fight over evil. Everyone knows that. Even the people on the bad side know that ultimately, they will lose.
As the world grows colder and the darkness surrounds, there is a handful of people who are willing to belive that there is still hope, that there is still a light in the future. I'm one of those select few.
I will probably be dead by the time the ultimate battle comes. I will be suprised beyond anything if I live through this whole thing.
I find myself thinking that if I have survived this long, then maybe I will make it out in the end. I squash these thoughts though because it instills in me a false hope and I don't feel like being let down again. I've been let down all my life and I don't think that I can take it anymore although if I died then it really wouldn't make a difference. Actually, I think it would be a relief to die. It would let me leave this world which has grown so dark and cold.
So as I sit in my prison wondering about what the future will hold, I find myself again hoping that one of these days, even though I might not be there to witness it, the sun will rise and fall down upon an evil free world, and I will be looking down from above watching my only love live her life just as I didn't get to live mine.