Gorgeous CI by avalanche@tda
Her fingers were strapped in casts. She was bound by invisible strings to a master who controlled all her thoughts, actions and future. The only thing the master didn’t control was her primitive desire. Bellatrix didn’t just want to live, she wanted to be happy, to pursue a passion, to snip the ropes that bound her will. The master, Lestrange was his name, had carelessly left his marionette unattended as he went out to drink the elixir of poisonous bliss. Carefully, his animate marionette slipped out of her bindings and floated across her prison to an oasis of relief. She set her fingers upon ebony and ivory. “It’s been so long...” she whispered to herself. Plink, plunk, her fingers had rusted after years of puppetry but the hum of the keys, begging for her to play had surpassed her embarrassment. Plink, plunk, a graceful melody bathed in acid, a clumsy serenade sang out from her sorrows as she romanced the thought of liberty.
Bella couldn’t believe her eyes. He was a Greek Adonis . From the moment she saw him, she knew, she wouldn’t be able to live without him. He may be venomous, he will poison your mind, the people have warned her but she couldn’t help herself. She needed to open Pandora’s Box; there was no way to stop the inevitable. He stared at her with his dark glare. She was drawn to him; she felt like she was suffocating under his presence yet if she left it, she would suffocate. It was a catch-22. There was no way that she was going to be happy all along. She could choose to leave, to walk away right then and there, and to be numbed by her sadness but she knew she couldn’t. She couldn’t move her feet an inch, or more so, she didn’t want to. The alternate was to go with him, to give in to his alluring leer. She walked closer. She was going to hell either way, better have fun with it.
To be free, to be wistful; she wasn’t bound by chains; she was imprisoned by a ring. But every night, her chains are freed by her saviour. She was enamoured, lying in the depths of the ocean singing his song. Even as her husband strolls, she will never forget the melody of her lover. She loves when dreams wash over her because she knows her saviour will be there, her moments in paradise, though brief, will satisfy her until she can find a more permanent oasis. One night, she had gone into the mind of her lover whispering the words “The only thing I want more of you is an anticipated serendipity”. He was confused at her words, what in the world could she mean. He followed her eyes as she looked upon her vanity table. A flash of light would appear that night, a spell to end one’s life, but against whom?
She waited patiently on the edge of her bed. Night had fallen and the only light in her bedroom had been of the moon rays from her open window. She had only the lightest silk night gown on the warm summer evening, anticipating the return of her lover. An anticipated serendipity, she had been so clever. A rather boastful girl, she lived on pleasure and physical happiness. Tonight was the climax of her life. Her master would finally be rid of her world. He was a little imperfect glass shard in the mosaic of her perfect life. She wanted perfection and for perfection, he had to be removed. Carefully of course for she didn’t want to destroy the whole mosaic. There was a flash of green light. Her eyes were blinded for a moment but then, she realized what happened. She felt relief in her heart. The mosaic was tweaked to perfection.
The tweak destroyed the whole mosaic. It had split into an infinite amount of shards scattering like dust in the wind. Her door creaked open as she saw her lover. At first she was joyous but then she noticed the blood stained on his muslin shirt. Her eyes travelled up to the multiple wounds in his chest. It can’t be, she thought, she hadn’t seen the other flashes. He collapsed into a bloody mess as he whispered his last words, “You monster.” She wept like a child without her mother, like a girl who had lost everything in her life, who had been lied to and realized her horrifying mistake. Her tears drowned her body as she felt like she had been an anchor thrown overboard and sunk underwater. She wasn’t the captain of her sailing ship anymore. She walked the plank. Her body let out shuddering sobs. Her tears had mixed with his fresh blood. All she wanted was perfection. Was that too much to ask for?
She didn’t want to sleep. Sleep was an antidote for the mind. Every night she would stay up wishing she could die instead. Her guilt always resurfaced in her dreams, no, she didn’t have guilt. She was cold, heartless; she didn’t know the abstract concept of the conscience. The world would crumble at her feet. Ashes would fall from the sky. The world would end either way, everyone will die, so hedonism was key. It doesn’t matter who was hurt. So why would she fear sleep? She hadn’t realized that she had nothing to fear until she couldn’t sleep anymore. She was an insomniac growing frailer every day. She lost her timeless beauty. Her rosy cheeks, her jeweled eyes, her blood stained lips; they fled with her slumber. What guilt could do to a person, how it could turn the most youthful of women into old spinsters. Her heart had turned as dark as her name.
Big thank you to Sheryl and Eilidh for helping me edit this (sorry for not remember your names on hpff >.< ) and Wisty, Brielle, Bex, Mike, Kit and all my TDA friends for being so supportive of me and finally making me put this up, couldn't do it without you guys :)