A/N: This is kind of a sequal to Black Magic, my other story. But I think you can understand it even if you haven't read Black Magic. It's not written in the same style at all, but it's sort of what could have happened to my oc afterward... Oh, and of course all of the names, characters, etc. in this story belong to J. K. Rowling, not me. If they did belong to me, I'd be rich and famous, but they don't, so I'm not... yet. ;)
I am lost and all alone. The wind swirls around me and I am lost in utter darkness. I can hear laughter echoing all around me. But there is nothing funny about it. It is high pitched and cold, unfeeling laughter. It mocks me and sees right through me. It is triumphant, it has taken everything from my, destroyed my life until there was nothing left. And it has no remorse. It chills my soul like a knife cutting into my heart.
Suddenly the laughter changes. The pitch lowers and it turns into an insane laughter that is more than slightly familiar. There is no mirth in this laugh at all. Not even the terrible triumphant hatred that echoed in the other one. This laugh is filled with pain, I'm not even sure if it could be called a laugh.
This one is worse than the last. It rips me limb from limb and destroys the little that is left of my heart. When I feel as though I will die if it goes on any longer, it stops abruptly. And I wake up in my own bed, shaking from head to toe. I wait for my heart rate to return to its normal speed and then slowly pull myself out of bed. It is still dark out, probably very early in the morning, but I can not sleep any longer.
The dream is always the same, night after night. Sometimes it lasts longer, and sometimes when I wake up it is morning, but the laughter, both the cold, high, triumphant one and the deeper insane one, is always there, always the same.
I glance at the mirror in the corner. I look terrible. As though I haven't had a good night's sleep in months. Which, as a matter of fact, I haven't. I turn to the window and look up at the sky. Before I went to bed it was snowing and cloudy. Now the snow blankets the street, sparkling brilliantly in the light of the quarter moon. No cars have been through the alley yet to muck it up. The sky is perfectly clear and the stars shine brightly.
I search the night sky and locate Orion's Belt. Without even meaning to, I find my eyes following their familiar path southeast across the sky. I stare up at Canis Major, the big dog constellation, and more particularly, a single star of that constellation, the brightest one. Sirius.
A blinding headache explodes through my skull. I stumble and fall to my knees. The excruciating pain pounds through my head as though someone has taken an ax to it. I cradle my head in my hands praying for it to end. Surprisingly it does. The pain disappears as quickly as it came, leaving me to wonder if perhaps I only imagined it.
Suddenly I hear something, I turn wildly, looking for its source, but with a sinking feeling I realize that I already know where the sound is coming from. I seem to know intuitively that it is inside my own mind, even though I've never heard voices before. But then, I've never been insane before, either.
"I'll always be there," it calls eerily. Echoing across the long empty months since it was said. Has it truly only been months since my life was almost normal? Could this be possible?
"I'll always be there…" I hear again. A harsh laugh escapes my lips, surprising even myself.
"You can't hurt me anymore," I say aloud, not sure who I am talking to. The voice? My mind? "I've already cried all the tears I have for you. I've got nothing left to give."
The insane pain-filled laughter rings dully through my mind. There is silence for a moment. Then the voice says, "I'm still here." It states this quite simply, as though the sentence is meaningless, yet somehow it embodies a world of meaning to me. I open my mouth, but then shut it, partly because I can think of nothing to say and partly because I am not even sure if I have to say things out loud to speak to the voice.
Suddenly I realize tears are dripping down my cheeks. Bummer, I was wrong. I have got tears left for you.
"You're not." I compromise by whispering. "You're dead to me. You died the day you left me."
"If I remember clearly, you were the one who told me not to try and save you." This is getting ridiculous.
"Who the hell are you?" I scream.
"You know perfectly well who I am."
"No, you aren't. He wouldn't say that."
The voice sighs, "No, perhaps not. But you can't imagine what it's like. How it changes you."
"What? Dieing?" I ask sarcastically.
"I'm not dead!" the voice exclaims. Ok, maybe it is you, after all.
"You," I say in a deathly whisper, "are dead to me. You ruined my life. You destroyed everything I ever loved. Including yourself." The voice is quiet again. Considering what I've said maybe.
I wait, still it says nothing. "Hello?" I ask finally, half hoping it's still there. Silence. It's gone. No wonder I'm insane.