She isn't mine.
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She stared at the small white pill in her hand, her shoulders shaking and her lips tingling, her tongue already moving forward to accept the offering. A small tear slipped from her eye, this just made her feel so damn vulnerable. Bellatrix Lestrange didn't need drugs…she could get by without them, she was strong. But, she wasn't. She was weak, so fucking weak. She raised the small pill to her lips, shivering as it touched her tongue. She swallowed it down, she didn't flinch this time, she was too used to it, she looked up at the ceiling. It was painted black, like the rest of this room. More tears leaked from her eyes, her fingers started to twitch, she felt the warmth start to inch up her arms. She knew it would be at least 15 minutes before the effects were at their peak…but the pretrip was always nice. Her eyes glazed, she hated this. Her life depended on this fix…this small white pill was the only thing that kept her from a complete and total breakdown.
I'm so sorry my Lord…
The words echoed in her head for perhaps the millionth time, the thought making her gut clench in shame. If he knew…she couldn't bear to think of it. She was lowering herself to taking muggle drugs to get by…she was a witch, goddammit, and a good one at that. This was pathetic. And he would see…he would know, and he would be disgusted.
My Lord, please forgive me…
She clutched her knees to her chest, letting the blackness of the room completely consume her, letting the drug work its magic.
My Lord…please don't take this away from me…