My name is Alexis. Just Alexis. I refuse to take on the name of my, for lack of a better word, husband. He was an evil, vicious man, only concerned with weeding out those of lesser value than him. I never loved the man, and I highly doubt that he ever felt a speck of emotion towards be either, let alone love me.
No, he was just concerned with creating an heir worthy of him. That's why I was forced to be with him.
Almost four years ago, he found me half dead, starving and homeless; but I was a pureblood. So he took me in, got me healthy enough and immediately, I found myself pregnant with twins. They were born early however, and were small and sickly. To him, they were useless, but he allowed them to stay anyway. I named the two, identical boys Patrick and Preston. He abused us, and even at such a young age, the boys were always black and blue all over, as if he was blaming them for being so small.
Ten months later, Seth came along. Because the twins and I hadn't been getting proper nourishment, Seth was also born small and weak, and he was beginning to get impatient with me. None of the sons I had produced were good enough for him, and he blamed me for the inadaquecy of my beloved sons, and left me, perhaps to find a more suitable woman that could create strong sons. He was gone for about fifteen months, and when he finally returned, he looked as if he were weaker. Becoming desperate for an heir, he wanted to try one more time.
He died a month later, after the Boy Who Lived killed him in The Battle of Hogwarts. He never knew that I was pregnant again.
So now, here I am, nine months pregnant, broke, homeless, wandless and trying to feed three young boys, plus myself, and we have nowhere to go.
The four of us took shelter under an old, decaying structure while I cut up a discarded apple that we found on the side of the road. My three boys held tight to my legs as the rain fell around us, and the wind howled. They all shivered violently against the bitter January weather. I shook my head sadly as I passed out the bruised apple pieces; my sons deserved better than this. All three of them were extremely malnourished, and their skin was stretched tight over their fragile bones. Their blue eyes and dark brown hair were dull and lifeless. I felt like I had failed as a mother; these young boys looked as if they would drop over dead any minute. My unborn baby couldn't be doing much better either, and if it weren't for the occasional kick, I would think that she'd already died.
After the boys finished their apple, I had us head out again, into the dark, stormy night. They trudged behind me silently, having learned months ago that complaining wouldn't fill their empty stomachs, or warm their shivering bodies.
When we walked, I didn't quite ever know where we were going, I just knew that we were going. If we ever stumbled across a nice town, we'd only stay for a day or two, before taking off again. I hated getting help from others.
It was around eleven when the snow started falling, and around eleven-thirty when it started. I felt a sharp pain in my stomach and fell to the ground. The boys watched anxiously. Another pain hit, and I knew that the baby was on it's way. I began to cry. Not here, not now. We were unprepared and I couldn't deliver this baby alone. I was too weak, and knew that the chances were slim that I'd survive this.
More pain hit, and I held back a scream. I couldn't leave my sons to fend for themselves, they'd for sure die.
More pain, and I pushed. And pushed. And pushed. Tears fell relentlessly and I could feel the life slipping from me. I felt like I was drifting, and suddenly, it was over.
I was over.