Warning: Darkfic. Contains violent imagery.
I was born of a superior blood line. One of the oldest pure-blood families, as my ancestors lived hundreds, perhaps even thousands of years ago. I am a Black, which makes me practically royalty. Though it was always a challenge to live up to my name, the intense pressure served to fuel my ambitions. I wanted my family to be proud of me.
My childhood was a bit chaotic as one would expect, though not difficult or traumatic. I was quiet, obedient, and fell in line. My mother had always favored me for it, as my brother was nothing short of a rebellious troublemaker. I found that it was rather enjoyable to be the one who did what was expected. Though naturally, as I grew I wanted to do something worthwhile, and make my own path.
I'll be the first to admit that the path was dangerous. I took the road of the dark soldier, and at sixteen years old, I was the youngest to ever be inducted as a Death Eater. I had been attracted to the cause, largely due to the fact that I have always looked up to my cousin, Bellatrix. I relished the idea of following in her footsteps. She was always so brave...So powerful. I wanted to be brave and powerful.
In the Dark Lord's ranks, I fit in quite well, and am even among the few that are favored, though this is probably due to my bloodlines. Becoming a Death Eater was rather easy for me. Though soon enough, I began to realize I was in way over my head. The Death Eaters are not the righteous warriors I had thought them to be. They are mad, cruel, sadistic, cold blooded killers.
Of course I had admittedly look down on muggles, muggle-borns, and the like. Though I don't wish to harm them. I am far from a sociopath. Though I have always been a pure-blood supremacist, I am not very keen on violence. In fact, the sight of blood has always made me lightheaded. I never could stomach it.
Our rather fun, late night Death Eater havoc wreaking had somehow turned into the pointless slaughtering of innocents. I watched on in horror as those who I had embraced in friendship and loyalty...raped, tortured, and murdered countless souls. It was sick.
I can see their faces as I lay in bed at night. When I sleep, they haunt my dreams. But I deserve it. I had watched and done nothing as my surrogate brothers and sisters inflicted horrors that one could scarcely imagine. Their victims had pleaded for my help, which I never offered. I did nothing but stand idly by and watch the madness unfold.
The night was black and starless when I was to make my first kill. I'd raided a home with Bellatrix and her deranged husband. They were quick to butcher the family as though they were vermin, and left only one. It was here they informed me that the Dark Lord had concluded it was my time...My time to kill. My target was a girl, not much younger than myself. Her clear blue eyes bore right into my soul. I broke down in tears on the kitchen floor. I could not bring myself to do it. I could not hurt anybody...I was weak.
Bella happily did it for me, then insisted I would have to "clean up my own mess" the next time. She cast the imperious curse, imposing her demented will. She and that maniac Rodolphus laughed wickedly as the girl tore open her skin with her own fingernails, chunks of her flesh splattering to freshly waxed floor. Then Bella made her rip out her mousy brown hair by the roots in large clumps, taking blood soaked pieces of her scalp with it. The screams made my stomach turn, and I felt the bile rise to my throat before vomiting profusely. When my cousin grew bored, she took a butcher knife and carved up her victim like a Christmas ham.
I'm ashamed to say, that was not even the last straw because I was too afraid to oppose The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. I was too damn afraid! The fear had consumed me. The fear had taken over until the cause had made its way closer to home.
The Dark Lord had asked to borrow our beloved family house elf, Kreacher. I reluctantly accepted. To my horror, Kreacher returned to me late that night, battered and bruised. He told me that Lord Voldemort had used him to test the defenses around one of his horcruxes. Afterwards, he had left him to die. Luckily, he had been able to escape with the use of his magic. I did my best to help Kreacher heal, and thankfully he is recovering well. Though that night, I nearly went mad with guilt.
The man I had pledged my very soul to...he had left someone so close to my heart to die, discarding him as though he were a piece of trash...And it was all my fault! I can no longer be a bystander. I can no longer be a Death Eater. I want stop it. I want to stop him. I am not weak. I could not kill that girl, or anyone else because I am strong. I know that now. There is strength in standing up for what is right, even if it means going against your family and everything you once believed. I will avenge those who I did not help, when I was the only one who could. Maybe in doing so, their ever watchful eyes will leave me in peace. They may not have been pure-bloods, but they were people too! They were no different from me.
Kreacher told me of the horcrux that the Dark Lord had created...A seemingly plain locket that held a piece of his twisted soul. With the help of my ever faithful house elf and friend, I located the island inside the dark cave where it was hidden. After discovering the locket, I was able to create a replica and tucked away a short letter to my former master inside the fake one. Though I figure I will be long dead before he ever reads it, my hope is that when he meets his match, he will be mortal once more.
I will destroy this horcrux if it's the last thing I do...
