Chapter 1 : Prologue
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 6|
Background: Font color:
Author’s Notes: I am so stoked for this! I am terribly excited to write this and I hope you enjoy it! I think y’all are in for quite the shock, it really defies a lot of clichés and I can’t wait to hear what you think about it!
Let me start off by telling you that everything you think you know about me is wrong. Dreadfully and frightfully wrong.
Everything you think you know about my sister, is also wrong.
I, you poor misinformed people, am not the evil one. I’m not the one who trained my sister to follow my footsteps down ‘the path of greatness’. And for the record, I was not the one highly praised by my parents while my ‘secretly perfect’ sister sat in the shadows. Despite common belief, Rudolphus and I are very much in love. Oh, and I was certainly not my parents favorite.
I don’t see how you couldn’t be.
Whoever you informant was, I would recommend completely disregarding everything they’ve told you. It was far from the truth.
I can assure you my sister is far from perfect. The pedestal you have seem to set her upon is slightly sickening. My sister is not perfect, sweet, or innocent. She isn’t the one who endured years of neglect yet is still peppy and lovely. Oh, and her marriage wasn’t the dreamboat it’s made out to be. She wasn’t the underloved child who sat in my shadow until her time to shine came when she married a man who was the richest of the rich and the purest of the pure.
Before I begin telling you how it actually is, I, Bellatrix Samantha Black, swear to tell the events s truthfully as they occurred.
Nothing more, nothing less.
The manor is dreadfully quiet as I walk slowly up the stairs, the heel of my boots clicking on the marble floor, making a soft tap, yet the noise seems to tear through the silence like a shrill scream.
My fingers trail softly on the grey walls as I walk slowly down the dark corridors. My long hair swooshes from side to side with my confident steps, stirring the cool, still air.
I slow down reluctantly, almost resentfully, in front of Andromeda’s bedroom. The dark wooded door is sealed tightly, sealing its contents. I reach out carefully and my long fingers wrap around the silver doorknob. Before pushing the door open, a regretful sigh slips from my lips.
My hand turns the door knob, and I push the heavy door. The sudden movement stirs the dust, which is most noticeable in the skinny ray of sunlight leaking into the room through the smallest gap in between the drawn curtains.
I step over the threshold and further examine the room. The bed is neatly made and the books on her desk are stacked evenly. Three quills are lying on the desk in a perfect row, as they always had been.
I creep towards the dresser and open the top left drawer.
Nothing lay inside.
I rush over to the closet, and yank it open. The only thing hanging in the dust gathering closet was single dress. The champagne colored silk hangs to the floor, and the diamonds lining the neckline glisten even in the dreary light.
Of course, the only thing Andromeda would leave would be a gift Mother gave her to bribe her into a pureblood marriage.
I close the closet door hastily as tears prick my eyes. I trudge over to the bed, and nearly collapse on it.
I sigh again in disappointment and wipe my eyes. “How many times am I going to check your room to see if you changed your mind and wanted to come home? Why did you have to just that filthy little mudblood over me?” I whisper. I lay there feeling defeated for another moment, but I swing my legs back over the edge and leave the room.
I close the door softly so Mother won’t hear, and continue down the hall. When I reach the end of the hall, I knock softly on the door.
I open the door carefully, and peers in to see my father. His yellow skin hangs weakly from his bones and his eyes are sunken in. He gives me a stiff smile, and says, “Honey, I wish I could speak with you, but I’m afraid your mother is looking for you. She’s in the kitchen.”
I stare at my father, and I almost want to beg him not to have to go see the wretched women. But instead, I turn on my heel and leave my dying Father by himself.
It’s funny how a man of such status, pureblood and wealthy, can fall so easily to such a muggle disease. Of course, my father, the only parents who seems to understand me and appreciate me, is destined to die. Tears prick at my eyes again, but I blink them away.
I slow down right before the kitchen doors, and I take a deep breath. The door swings open just as I’m about to open the door, and Narcissa is standing in front of me. She huffs at me, and flips her blonde hair over her shoulder.
I roll my eyes at her and step into the kitchen.
My mother stands in the far right corner of the kitchen, with her blonde hair being twirled around her finger.
“Dearest Bellatrix,” she hisses. She motions to the seat a few feet away from me, and I roll my eyes again. Her black eyes scrutinize my every move, and she smiles coldly at me.
“What do you want, Mother?” I snap.
“Oh, come now, Bella,” she replies, and takes the seat next to me. She picks up an apple, and holds it out to me. The apple is such a dark red it looks like it was smeared with blood.
She gives me a threatening look, so I take it.
“Your Father had those bought just for you, they’re supposed to be the best money can buy. He knows you’re particularly fond of apples,” she smiles again. Her red lips stretch tight over her overly white teeth, and her eyes narrow.
I stare at the apple for a moment, not bringing it near my mouth.
“Bellatrix, eat up. You’ll need your energy,” she chuckles. Her eyes look threatening and unfriendly. Reluctantly, I bring the apple to my lips and sink my teeth into it. I bite off a chunk delicately and an awful taste spreads through my mouth as I swallow it.
Bitter juice burns my tongue and I spit onto the counter. The bite slides down my throat and my head begins to throb. I try to stand up as my vision begins to black out. I hear Mother get up from her seat, laughing. My head’s spinning and I can’t think straight. I collapse to the ground, gasping for air. The last of my vision disappears, the last thing I saw was a pair of black stilettos exiting the kitchen door.
Other Similar Stories