Embracing the Darkness.
StoryGirl.
She had been alone for so long, having company seemed so difficult to bear. Her sister swooped in, her blond brat following and a husband trailing behind her. So, eyes wide, she had run and hid. Perhaps it hadn't been the best thing to do, but she had done it, and she was a woman of her word, which meant she would not take it back. She had hid, and she would wait until they were gone to climb out of this closet.
She had been alone for so long, been beaten for so long, been hiding for so long, she had forgotten what it felt like to been human. She wasn't that anymore, not even a former shadow of what she used to have been. She was a monster, and that she would forever remain.
Bellatrix loved the torture she inflicted on herself by torturing others. The screams lingered in her head far to long for anyone to deem her sane, and she enjoyed them, like the twisted monster she was. She enjoyed repeating the screams in her mind, loved the feel of her wand in her hand as she prepared to torture another. It was who she was, and she hated it.
But it was impossible to escape, and she had fallen so deep into the pit of darkness that nobody would be able to get her out. Sane women laughed with their families, like her sisters did. Sane women hated Voldemort. But she wasn't sane. She wasn't anything resembling sane. She was Bellatrix, and she loved it.
She loved the way she made people shivered when she walked past them. She enjoyed the pain she inflicted on others. It had started, she supposed, when she was ten, reading an article in the Prophet about the Unforgivable Curses. A shiver of delight had crept up her spine, embracing her in its darkness. And from that day on, her delight at pain had been impossible to hide.
Shivering in the closet, Bellatrix ran her hands up and down the many bruises on her arm, all of them caused by herself. She hated what she had become so much, she wanted to die. But she never could, no matter how hard she pushed the blade into her skin, no matter how much blood dripped from her veins. Death was never given to her, and she supposed she deserved that.
She forced a smile in the darkness, laughter slipping from her mouth. Tugging hard on a curl, she began to sing softly at first but then raising her voice to a louder pitch, daring her sister to find her. "Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb. Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow."
A cackle slipped from her mouth. How fun this was, playing sick games with yourself! Delight slid up her spine, and she shivered in the closet, drawing her knees up to her chest. A sigh emitted itself from her lips, and she rested her head against the cupboard's back.
She whispered to herself in the darkness- "Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb."
She died in that cupboard.
Its fleece was white as snow.
And the darkness consumed her finally, as death took her body. And, she, Bellatrix Lestrange, embraced the darkness.
Written for the 'Flying Solo' challenge and for livesonwisteria, who asked for "Bellatrix without anyone." Hope I succeeded, even though Narcissa, Draco, Lucius and Voldemort are mentioned in this fic. This was hard to write, and I hope I captured Bellatrix. I do not own "Mary Had A Little Lamb." Reviews are appreciated! :)