It was cold.
He could feel it. The icy air enveloped and engulfed him. It was everywhere. He could almost see it-clear as it was. Could almost smell it- scentless as it was.
It was all around him, and it was the only thing he had left.
He gave a soft, shallow sigh, his knees drawn tight against his chest, as his eyes stared blankly at the wall before him
Those walls, they were all around him too. The only thing he could see besides the cold. He didn't like them. They laughed and jeered, pushing him to the floor whenever he tried feebly to get up. They were closing in on him...suffocating him...
His hands were streaked with dirt and blood, his own blood, but he still grabbed the roots of his blonde hair, once so sleek and perfect.
"I know you're here father."
His voice was hoarse and raspy. Maybe it was from the countless screams he had bellowed beforehand, or maybe from the eerie silence he was becoming accustom to now.
Either way, it didn't matter. His gray eyes watched the shadows dancing across the wall in front of him.
"I know you're here."
Yes, Lucius Malfoy was there. The boy was sure of it. That's what he told himself over and over, until it was the only real thought , the only actual fragment of his mind he possessed.
The boy's father hadn't left him to the aurors, to be thrown into Azakaban at the age eighteen, when he had just finally graduated from Hogwarts. No..of coarse not. Anyone who thought otherwise was only pretending.
Every once and while, a blur of images and scences would flash before the boy's eyes. And he was see the penetrating green light from a wand, and the heavy thud of a fallen, dead body.
But those thoughts weren't real. They were only pretend.
Like the pain he still felt from the ugly symbol burnt into his very skin. He could still feel the stinging fire of the burning coals pierceing his forearm-but it wasn't real. No-he, as a Death Eater, felt no pain. He was happy, very happy. Anyone who thought otherwise was only pretending.
Did becoming a Death Eater really even matter? Well, of course it did, if that's what his father thought. What his father thought was everything. That's why the boy lived, to impress Lucius. Some had said that was beyond his reach, but they had been pretending.
"I know your still here."
A soft smile played across the boy's lips, as he allowed his filthy blonde hair to fall before his dead gray eyes.
Darkness cascaded around him, and he almost thought he could hear voices outside the cell. Then again, they might have just been pretend.
Like the words he was repeating over and over.