Embracing Darkness

Darkness. I like it. I think I even love it. As a child, I was scared of the dark; petrified would be a better word. I vaguely remember my cousin trapping me inside a closet when I was younger. He remembers hearing a thud a few seconds later. I had fainted.

I never outgrew being afraid of the dark, that is, until my stay in this cell began. It used to be my worst fear, my fiercest enemy; yet, now it is my best friend. I have learned to trust the dark and it has, in return, assisted me in the times of need. It takes me away from the pain that never ceases. It takes away my fears and in it, I placed them all. It hides me from those who damage my body, my soul, my being, though it isn’t long after I slipped into Darkness that they stole me from it, inflicting pain upon me, and then leaving me in my cell to wither. It is after they leave that I await the return of my only friend – Darkness.

They. I have stopped referring to them by their name. It isn’t out of fear but out of spite. Who are they to deserve acknowledgement, especially mine. They are the reason that I have grown to love the dark. They are the reason I constantly feel pain. They are the reason I huddle here, in my desolate cell, knees touching my chin, rocking back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Darkness hasn’t come. Soon, my child. You shall soon embrace me and your pain will be gone, it faintly whispers to me from afar.

Back and forth.

Rocking summons the temporary Darkness that I slip into at the end of the day. But what else is there? After what they have done to me, there is nothing else I can do. I am weak; I admit it. I can no longer fight them off. I was left in my diminutive cell to rot after they captured us. But they have decided against allowing us to just simply die; they did so much more.

Oh, yes, there are other ways to prolong death and make it more painful. They don’t feed us. Occasionally, they would toss a small glass bottle of water through the cell bars. If we refuse to catch it or miss it, they won’t give another. I missed it the first day. Slipped right through my fingers and exploded on the jagged rocks of my cell floor. I was left to lick the ground, attempting to acquire as much liquid as I could. My tongue went across a sharp rock and split open, but they refused to heal it with their wands. I was left to bleed to suffer. Darkness had failed me that night – it came ever so slowly.

My tears have been my food day and night while they taunt me all day long, “Where is your savior Potter? Oh but of course, he is finished!”

Back and forth.

It has been a brutal day. Today, I am the object of their games, for that is what they call it. Here I sit, arms wrapped around my legs, wishing the darkness would take me once more.

Back and forth.

I curse. I will have to succumb to the thing I have dreaded doing, for it will cause more pain. It has been my last resort when Darkness has failed me. I slowly stand, staggering and falling back onto the wall. An uneven part of the stonewall stabs at my spine; I flinch and arch my back, yet I do not utter a sound for fear of what they will do if they know I am still awake.

I slowly limp over to the middle of the cell where I keep my prized possession. As I bend down to pick it up, I hear the sound of dripping liquid and I look for the source. On the opposite wall of the cell, a shiny liquid is trickling from the top of the wall. Then, slowly, it starts to freeze. I let out a tiny scream and jump back in shock at the reflection staring back at me. Tears stream down my cheeks, freezing even before they reach my chin; the Dementor’s spell has not left the prison.

It has been weeks since I last saw my appearance. The mane of brown bushy hair still falls to my elbows, but I recognize nothing else. My eyes have become deep sockets, and bones show from beneath my stretched, waxy skin. I resemble a decaying corpse. I pick up my possession – the most jagged, flat rock that I could find as they brought me in – and crawl back to my corner.

I hear a loud screeching noise; one of them has awoken. They heard my scream. I know I must do it before they approach. Praying that Darkness will take me once more, I stick out my left forearm. There are long cuts upon cuts where I have previously performed the ritual. That is what I call it – the Ritual to Darkness. Holding the jagged stone tightly, I press it to my skin. I firmly pull it back, and then drop the stone. Tears begin to fall from my eyes once again; the pain never fails to come. As blood pours from my arm, I start to feel dizzy. It is working. As the pain and blood increase, the room starts to become fuzzy. I smile to myself and close my eyes – I am slipping into Darkness once more…

The fortress trembles as the vast and cruel waves crash against it. With a sharp gasp, I wake, coming from the same nightmare – a nightmare that is, in fact, reality.
I push myself closer to my corner, knowing and dreading what is soon to come. The waves hurtle against the prison once more and the building trembles. I hear abrupt cackling from the cell next to mine and listen intently.

“You dare defy me, Longbottom?” shouts a voice. Bellatrix Lestrange is personally in charge of keeping an eye on Neville, who had also been captured when both Harry and Lord Voldemort were destroyed, along with half the Order. The one I hoped would save me also perished during the battle: Ron Weasley – the love of my life. If he was still alive…maybe I wouldn’t be so broken…

I hear someone spit on the floor and then a heart-wrenching smack.

I clasp my hands to my ears and scream, shaking my head, wishing the flashing images that infiltrate my mind would vacate. My ears are filled with raspy voices and cackles. I don’t scream for Neville’s fate, for both of us know that death is soon approaching and we welcome it with open arms. Nevertheless, I scream for my body which cries out in agony, remembering the pain it endured the previous night. The slap has awoken in me the memory of my daily nightmare, which I long to escape.

* * *

Only mere hours before I had cut myself the previous night, four cloaked figures had entered my cell, along with a short stumpy man who held a camera. I sat, rocking back in my corner, my back to them, desperately wishing for Darkness to take me.

“There she is, Robertis. Make sure you get a good shot for the Prophet,” spoke a raspy voice. A flash of light filled the room and I rocked faster, shivering, for it was exceptionally cold that day. “Next is the Longbottom boy, Robertis.”

I heard a couple of them leave but I knew that I was still being watched.

“Turn around,” rasped the voice again but this time, it possessed a bark-like quality. I simply rocked. “Crucio.”

My screams filled the prison. The pain pierced my body like a dozen daggers. After a few seconds, it ceased. I picked myself up off from the floor and turned, frightened, towards the man.

A big, rangy man with matted gray hair and whiskers stared back at me. His robes were extremely tight and he had long yellowish nails. He smiled, showing his pointed teeth.

“Well, my love, why did you make me do that?” Fenrir spoke, advancing on me. The other hooded figure ran in front of him and spread his arms defensively.

“It’s my night, Greyback!”

“Out of my way, Rabastan!” growled the werewolf, and with a swipe of his hand, the Death Eater was thrown across the cell. I flinched and backed up. I felt my back against the cell wall and knew there was no way out of this one. I prayed it would take me, prayed that the Darkness would come once more. But it didn’t.

The werewolf made his way towards me, a predator approaching its prey. I couldn’t move. I simply bowed my head and shut my eyes. He reached me and extended a hairy finger, brushing it across my cheek, and shivers ran down my spine. Tears rolled down my face and dropped onto the stone floor.

“Why the tears, Mudblood? This isn’t going to hurt any more than it did before,” he growled. He roughly grasped me and pulled me towards him, sniffing my neck.

“Just…one…bite…”

But he didn’t bite. He proceeded to lick the length of my neck to my ears. He suddenly tore the rag I was wearing off of me – revealing my pale skin. I sobbed.

“You’ll be quiet, Granger!” he spat. Smack.

My face abruptly cocked to the side, the stinging in my cheek growing. I continued to sob.

He violently grasped me once more and threw me to the floor, my arm scraping against the stone. I simply lay there as he approached me.

He pushed me up against the wall, aggressively grabbed a lock of my hair, and pulled my head to the side and sniffed my neck once more. He pressed his teeth to the edge of my bare shoulder, nibbling my skin. His tongue meeting my skin sickened me. I felt him approach my neck, tormenting me with his bites, the weight of his body keeping me firmly against the wall. He lifted his head and let out a low growl. Then, with one swift movement, he brought down his teeth and at the same time, I felt the skin on my lower body rip as he penetrated me. I screamed and arched my back, the pain rapidly coursing through me. He raised his head once more and let escape a groan of satisfaction, licking the blood from his lips.

Come, child…

I fainted. I was saved by the Darkness once more.

* * *

My screaming subsides and I drop my hands from my ears, opening my eyes. I recoil in fear. Greyback stares hungrily at me through the bars of the cell. I hurriedly edge to the corner of the cell, rocking back and forth once more. After a few seconds, he saunters away, calling to Bellatrix.

I know what I must do. Why must I go about mourning, oppressed by the enemy? I will not allow them to damage me anymore. They will not chip away at my being, my soul…

…I will…

I know it is time. The Darkness calls to me. I pick up my stone from the ground, my hand trembling uncontrollably. I lift it level with my neck, and stand up.

Come child…hurry…

With one swift slice, I let escape my last breath and crumple to the floor.

When it is finally dark enough, I see the stars.