Disclaimer: I don't own a single fuck regarding the Harry Potter series, I merely borrow J.K. Rowlings characters.
Warning: Torture
In my opinion Bellatrix is just a mere toddler when it comes to emotions.
I don't have a Beta-reader at the moment, so there could be flaws in these sentences. Please point them out, for I want to master the English language.
The girl lay motionless on the wooden floor as Bellatrix leaned against the velvet settee. She absently traced her own lips with her left fingertips as she observed the broken figure. There was nothing more satisfying than to hear the girl's erratic breathing, her pathetic whimpers and most of all the sobs the girl tried to silence.
Sometimes the stench of urine penetrated Bellatrix' nostrils, the girl had wet herself the moment the first Cruciatus Curse had hit her body. It made the Death Eater laugh and curse at the same time; people were so easily frightened these days, it was not really an adventure anymore to make them spill their guts. Bellatrix rolled her eyes at her own thoughts, I sound pathetic. Almost like my whiny, poor excuse of a brother in law. A brutal laugh escaped from her throat at the thought, which caused the girl to shiver, and with a nonchalant wave of her wand and a soft murmured incantation Bellatrix made a purulent wound appear on the girl's thigh.
She watched calmly while screams filled the room; the girl didn't have a clue as to what was happening to her, she twisted and turned as her flesh was torn and swollen, yellow, green and red. And the wound only deepened as time passed, from the surface of her thigh to ultimately the other side of the area. I think her muscles are about to be -
As if on cue the girl began to shake uncontrollably, her eyes bulged from their sockets and she opened and closed her mouth like a fish on the land. A soft pang - a muscle was ripped into two - could be heard and the girl had found her vocal chords again.
With another uncaring wave of her wand Bellatrix ended the process of the wound.
Pleas and cries, sniffs, and tears.. A lot of tears splattered on the ground and mingled with the other liquids, it had become a weird mixture of the girl's bodily fluids and it made the Death Eater growl. She ruins our floor wax. Ahh, I shouldn't have started her torture here, Bellatrix sighed, since when do I make such tactless mistakes? She knew the answer already, of course, but it was unlikely that she would ever willingly accept them. I don't get distracted by stupid, meaningless reasons!
Anger took over and with a snarl Bellatrix slashed her arm through the air, one of her throwing knifes was now stuck in some exuberant adornment that stood against the wall opposite of her. Besides anger, confusion and desperation reared their heads inside Bellatrix; it was suddenly far too warm in the room, as if a dragon had set fire to the house. More knifes struck wooden objects across the room, Bellatrix tried to put all her impotence in her throws, but it helped little. The Death Eater began to walk across the room like a caged animal. Her pace varied from a kind of frantic prowling to random sprints.
She couldn't handle these stupid feelings and the girl on the floor had to endure all the destructive magic that came forth from it. Crucio after crucio; intensifying, lessening and then intensifying again. At times Bellatrix joined the girl's screams with her own, trying to give a voice to all her frustration - it had helped her in Azkaban, so why wouldn't it help her now?! I don't understand this!
The torture went on until Bellatrix knew there was little to nothing left of the person this individual once had been. I can't calm down if you won't fucking scream! The Death Eater looked livid at motionless body, stupid, filthy and useless piece of meat!
Bellatrix had hoped to get into some sort of euphoric 'trance', that this girl could have helped her to become indifferent about all these weird things which she was going through, but then the girl had gone 'brain dead' - after Bellatrix had put a tad bit too much pressure to her nervous system -and there was still this lingering thought, this.. image behind her eyes, that Bellatrix couldn't shake off. Useless, this is all so utterly useless.
She muttered darkly under her breath, this girl has become a nuisance. She is ready to be thrown to the wolves. I should send word to that fleabitten mongrel.
Bellatrix opened her mouth to summon a House Elf, but she paused as her eyes fell upon the blood drenched - once brown - curls and was struck with even more haunting images from her memories and the Death Eater snarled and growled. She grabbed the nearest knife and threw it right at the curly mass of hair, the whole blade dug into the skull.
"Dixtrus?!" Bellatrix all but screamed.
Said House Elf appeared immediately, he bowed with practiced ease, "Mistress, ye called?"
"Fetch Fenrir, his dinner is ready." The Death Eater turned on her heels and walked away from the scene, she needed new entertainment. "And make sure that there is a fresh layer of wax on the floor before tomorrow morning, the whole room. I want to be able to see my own reflection."
"Of course, Mistress Lestrange."
Bellatrix left the room and stormed down the stairs, she ignored her coat that magically appeared as she reached and went through the front door. She threw herself into the winter night and welcomed the cold air. She did not even have a real destination, thus she walked an unidentified path over grounds surrounding the Manor.
What am I even doing?! And what - for Merlin's fucking sake - is happening to me?! Bellatrix threw her arms to the sky in all her desperation. The shiny stars didn't go unnoticed during this absurd gesture of helplessness. Again a reminder to a time not so long ago. A place with a million misty balls, all neatly placed in rows and rows of cabinets. And then of course, those eyes; those disgusting twinkling eyes, full of fear and horror.
Arg! I will lose my sanity because of these infuriating memories!
Bellatrix paused and looked at her hands, but she didn't really see them, for she was somewhere in her mind. Her lower lip quivered as she let her mind have the vaguest form of acknowledgment regarding all her misery, I shall skin her alive once I have her in my hands..
'Ye' is Early Modern English, it is a formal way of addressing someone.
I hope you enjoyed this small piece as much as I did.
Au revoir.