Written for the Weird Prompt Strikes Back, for [restriction] unreliable narrator.
Not a Killer: An Epistolary Request
Dear Scorpius,
You've probably heard the news by now. It's not like the Daily Prophet keeps these sort of things secret. In fact, I'm surprised you're even reading this. If you are, well, I always said there was a masochist in you.
I'm sorry I couldn't be there today. I wanted to talk through everything in person, but I'm struggling to get out. I'm in… actually, I'm not very sure where I am. But please, read on. Let me tell my story. I want you to know the full truth so you can decide for yourself.
It started back in school. I know you didn't like my friends back then, but I always tried to see the best in people. It took me a long time to see the truths in what they said, and when I did, I wanted out. But I knew too much. When you're getting into something, especially something clandestine like that, there comes a point where they don't want you to leave. They're more afraid of that than anything else. I had to go along with them, Scor. I had to pretend. It was either that or let them kill me. I was too young to die, at eighteen, and I'll be honest, I didn't want to.
I know what people said about me, Scor – what they still say about me. They think I became one of them that I knew what they were about and what they stood for right from the start. How could I not, right? Well, I didn't. I was naïve, and stupid, and desperate to be accepted.
So I had to go along with them. I never killed anyone, Scor, I swear. I was a lackey. It was all I was good for, they said, and that suited me fine. I shied away from the violence; it wasn't me. I gathered snippets of intelligence, guarded perimeters, that sort of thing. Nothing that hindered them, but nothing that helped them, either. It kept me safe.
Sometimes, I would daydream about what I would do if I ever did meet anyone looking for them. It never happened, but I knew – I just knew – what I would do. I played it out so many times in my head it would be easy. They'd come with their wands raised and ask where they were, what they were doing there, who was in danger. I would just point them in the right direction. It would have been that simple for me. I would have been free. I never got that opportunity.
But then they upped the stakes. I don't know what made them do it, Scorpius, I swear. They gave me an ultimatum, Scor. I was either all in or all out. The choice they gave me was one of the most difficult decisions I have ever had to make. I could go with them, to France, to take part in their attack on the muggleborn haven of Beauxbatons, or I would be killed right then and there, no chance to speak in my own defence. What would you do, Scor? What was I supposed to do? Tell them, 'thank you for the choice, but I'd very much like to die now.' I couldn't do that. I wasn't ready.
I never killed anyone, Scor. The little girl, I wasn't aiming for her, not at all. There was a teacher that was panicking, aiming spells all around the place in her fear. She didn't know or care who or what she was hitting. I saw a dark curse hit the wall too close to a first year boy and knew I had to step in and stop her. I aimed my wand and spoke the only words I knew that would put her to rest for good. But my spell misfired. That was all it was, Scor. A misfire. It careened between her elbow and her waist, and I thought I'd just hit a chair. Then her body fell, brown hair flying and then falling around her head as it hit the floor and bounced. She didn't even bleed. She was already dead. I didn't kill her, Scorpius, please. I didn't. It was an accident. It was a horrible accident that's eating me alive. I'll never escape it.
If you believe a word of this, Scorpius… If you care enough to take pity on me, then I need your help. I need out, Scorpius. I need you to send me a letter back and tell me you want to, and I'll tell you what I need you to do.
I always loved you, Scor, I always did. I've been trying to find my way back to you for too long. I'm asking you to help me, now. Please.
All my love,
Rose