Prolouge
She sits with her arms around her knees on the cliffs and looks out, straining her neck, trying to think clearly. Although, that had never been possible after he came. She would probably never think clearly again, The sickest bit is that she is the ever more grateful for it. Loving him with a fierce passion that she wishes that she is able to spread, to love other things, she cannot. She is infatuated.
The sea is much too still; deathly so. She heaves in a heavy breath, and violently wipes away traitorous tears, oh how she would love to sew up her tear ducts, how much more mutilated would another change to her appearance make her anyway? She's thin as a rail, ghastly so. Her cheeks are sunken and hollowed, her hair hangs limp around her shoulders. A matt of oily black curls, which despite their dark color and oils refuses to look even remotely healthy. Her once smooth pale complexion can't even be compared to the fair china doll skin she once had, it's not white and pink, or even yellow for that matter. It's grey, completely grey. Her clothes hang loosely over her limbs, looking as if she is wrapped in bags and curtains, like a house elf. She never bothered to buy new clothes after the incident; It's not as if anyone would come to see her. Them. Only him, once a month, and she begs him to stay; he refuses. Only if it can be back to normal he says. Only if she can be as she was, powerfull. Only if she gets rid of it.
She begins to hum gently, soothing herself and all around,It's a repetitive song, over and over, if she can't be lucid, she can at least be happy. Repetition helps that. There are no words to her song, no story, no plot no movement. Its stuck in space just like her. She picks up the root of this whole mess and gently places him into her lap. He begins to giggle and she smiles, one might describe it as incredibly sad, or another horrifying, but this one small moment of sweetness makes up for all the of the horrable things in the world. She wraps him up in her arms, his chubby arms and legs flailing as he squeels in absolute delight. She loves him dearly, this much is clear as she idly runs her fingers through his soft baby hair, taking a golden curl in between her fingers and gently twirling it over and over again just as the melody of her song repeats. He doesn't even remotely look like him. And she thanks god, he has her sisters hair, a deep flaxen gold, but with her curls. Or what they once were. He has her old skin, and her old eyes too. She wouldn't know that she has changed. That now she looks nothing as she did before. she doesn't keep a mirror, why would she? Looking at what he has done to her would be too painful, it would remind her too much of him.
The baby begins too fuss. She gathers herself up and walks toward the small cottage she is now living in, she puts him down for a nap and suddenly it hits her. Today is the day. The largest smile a person would have ever seen lights up her entire face, He's coming to see her, just like last month and the month before and the month before that and before that. She still doesn't understand what he wants. Why he comes. It doesn't matter to her yet though. Not at all. She suddenly realizes how incredibly tired she is, she walks into her small library takes a seat, and reaches out to the closest book she can find. She looks at the cover and an awe stricken expression hits her face. It's her diary, Their story, a complete recollection as to how her life became a living hell, how she became a social outcast, how,as some would say, she became insane, without the help of Azkabans dark walls. And lastly how she fell in love with the devil. And our story begins.
