Hi, I'm Official Space Teen and this is my entry for the Summary Competition. Basically I had a summary given to me and I had to base my fic around that. The story is being told from Bellatrix's perspective and is set in Azkaban before the break-out.
TRIGGER WARNING: Upsetting and threatening themes.
The Darkness
Darkness. That's all I ever see. A pitch black, gloomy, darkness. There's something about the darkness. Something not quite right. It creates more than just the inability to see, it also changes you. People said I was mad before I was forced into the darkness, they said I was sick and twisted even then. But now I'm worse, much worse. The darkness leaked into my being, infested my sanity. There is no light. Ever. I can hear words and noises; the shuffle of feet along the cobbled stones outside my cell, the hushed whispers of others as who pass by now and then. And worst of all; the screams. The blood curtailing screams of others as they get the life sucked of them. It's not that the screams and yells upset me, no; it's that I can hear them long after they have stopped. Their rasp voices are imbedded in my head and they are all I can hear. Day and night; screaming.
And with the darkness comes the cold. The bone chilling cold. It is always cold here. Ice and snow seem to live in places that are far beyond my reach. It's like drowning in a sea of ice; the freezing water lapses over you and at first it is a shook. You try to keep and dry but there is no way the escape the bitter hands of cold as you become immersed in it. And then numbness should come followed by death. But it doesn't. The cold just lingers, like the darkness. But I don't mind the cold as much as others. I don't scream for warmth and light like some do, and I don't beg for death like others. I embrace the cold. Breathe it in and let it fill my lungs. In and out, in and out. Clam and steady breaths as my body shakes and shivers. In and out, day and night.
And the cause of the darkness and the cause of the cold are the Dementors. They come at the dead of night. They creep into my cell as I sit in the darkness and cold. There presents can be felt even through the darkness and the cold. I know when they are near. I always know. Because when they come I lose hope. I lose hope that the Dark Lord will save me. I lose hope that one day I will be freed. When they come, all the warmth and all the happiness that is still alive in my mind turns to dust. Memories flood my mind; bad ones of the Dark Lord falling from power, of the Mudbloods reining victorious. But it's when they begin the kiss of death it's the worst. Every morsel of life begins to drain out of me. My blood lessens in flow and my heat slows its beat. And then just when I think death is near, just as I begin to welcome it with open arms; they leave. They leave for another victim. They leave me in the darkness and the cold.
But I have heard word of a break-out. Hushed words of hope among others and movements in the shadows. I have heard that the Dark Lord is coming; I have heard that the time of freedom is near. Yet, there's a part of me that wants to stay. A sick, twisted and deranged part of me thrives here. You can get addicted to a certain type of sadness. The darkness of my heart wants to stay here. It can live here and only here. It is in the inner most depth of my madness and doesn't want to leave. But I know I must go. The Dark Lord depends on my service and I shall be there when he rises to power. I will stand next to him and laugh at all that who thought it not possible. And I will once again know freedom. I will once again know happiness. And I will never again know the darkness. Just one more day.