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Chapter 1 : Alone
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 8|
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Foreign people surround you, alienating you. You barely hear the cold figure speaking.
He raises a pale hand, pointing a silly stick at you. But you know the stick is deadly and can end your life, and you find yourself wishing that it will.
You could pull your own stick out and fight, but you know that you canít. You know that he, or his followers, would kill you instantly.
You donít want to fight. You want him to utter the last words youíll ever hear. You want to drop to the ground like a broken marionette with your hair splaying out behind you, shining against the black soil; pale eyes staring up at the starless sky. You want your heart to stop beating; blood to stop flowing in your blue veins.
You want your skin to turn into ice, never to be warm again. You want the short breath thatís coming out of you to cease. You donít want to be a person anymore; you want to be a body.
A body buried six feet under. Like the others.
You stare at the last face youíll ever see. You analyse it, your eyes greedily drinking in the sharp features. He could have been beautiful, with high cheekbones and deep set eyes.
Cruelty gleams in his red eyes. His lips thin into a cool sneer.
He whispers words to you but you donít reply. You tilt your chin up and squeeze your lips together. His lips twist into a scowl and he repeats it louder, more dangerously, giving you a warning. He tells you that most people donít get a warning, and that you should be thankful heís giving you an opportunity to live and join him.
You want to spit in his face that youíd rather die. You keep your silence. You may want to die, but you want to die the way you lived.
By being a stubborn Gryffindor.
His face contorts and he loses the calm exterior, yelling the Unforgivable and inflicting the greatest pain upon you. Your knees buck, but youíre determined to stay standing and silent. Your head jerks and your eyes roll in the back of your head. You can feel your body shaking uncontrollably.
He intensifies the spell and you can no longer stand. You fall to the ground, the damp soil leaving its mark on your knees. Still, you refuse to make a sound.
You clench your fists, nails digging into the dirty flesh. You bite your tongue, the metallic tang of blood arising. Tears leak from your eyes, running down your dirty cheeks, leaving their marks. You feel your body splitting, being ripped apart at the seams.
Still, you do not scream.
You can feel your mind leaving; you donít try to get it back. Youíre about to let go when the pain lifts. You take a deep breath through your nose, smelling the muggy pine trees. Shakily, you get to your feet. You look at him defiantly and he smiles cruelly.
He raises his wand and you prepare for another onslaught. You break your silence.
ďYou wonít win.Ē
His expression twists and you remain silent. His eyes gleam and you close your eyes, picturing the time when you werenít alone. Before two fateful words forced everyone to leave you.
The same words that would steal you away. The words that would make you drop with a dull, insignificant thud with only a flash of green.
Hello! This is my first attempt at second person so please tell me if I need to change anything!
Also, who do you think this was? I want to hear your interpretations. :D
Thanks for reading! :)
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