Another life. That was his wish, his deep, dark desire. Yet he could only get away with just a day. Just one day to achieve a different life. To be someone else.
He wished to be carefree. Maybe even as carefree as the muggles he now walked among. They could not see him for who he was, for what he was, and because of that, he envied them. They did not know; had no idea of the war that waged within their precious world. That their very existence hung in the balance, that it had already been decided by a madman, and that they were being protected fiercely. That was the kind of carefree person he wanted to be. He wanted to be someone who did not know, nor cared, that his actions could determine whether he lived to see his eighteenth birthday.
Only a week was left. Just a week before he was once again shipped off to a school of which he was not welcome at. To a school he once believed to be his only refuge, even go as far to say it was his home, but now is the very place he fights to survive each day.
"Damn you!" He muttered, not caring about the looks on the faces of the muggles as he spoke to himself. To them he looked like a common, scungy teen. To them he was just another rebellious, drug-addict. Dishevelled, blonde hair, left eyebrow and ear pierced, dark smudges under his eyes, and heavy eyes which gave him a hung-over appearance. "Damn you Voldemort and your army. Damn your war…Damn it, damn me, damn you!" He hated himself. Hated how cowardly he was. Hated the fact that he could escape so easily, yet always came crawling back, in fear of his life. He hated his life and every person and penny in it that made it "rich" and "loving".
"Things are not always as they seem, my boy. Sometimes to embrace is to reject." A voice, a man, startled his crazed mutterings. He looked up, weary, grey eyes flashing with forgotten emotions.
"To embrace is to die, you fool." The man, a muggle, had a certain magic feeling that surrounded the very air around. He, however, did not see this.
"So says the boy who can not see. Open your eyes, and in turn, so shall your mind be opened. Whether you believe or not, not all is lost."
"Who the hell are you to tell me this crap?! You know nothing, you filthy muggle!" Did he even believe those views anymore? Did he even really want to?
"Old prejudices will die in time. New lives will be born and old ones not forgotten, but left to rot in the times of the past." Next thing he knew, he was running as if his very soul depended on it, the words haunting his every step. His heart pounded wildly, his ears ringing. He was terrified, yet there was a new emotion rising. One of hope...One of freedom. But he was not yet free, yet he could feel it coming, feel his wings finally spreading.
"Yes!" He wanted this, so bad. But he knew he had to wait, give it time. He had grown up acting as if his father knew best, a little more time doing the same, it wouldn't hurt him. It would save him. Yet there was something else coming, he could feel it. He had no idea that it would determine his position in the war so early. He didn't even know what it was. This was one issue who would like to prepare for.
The sound of the piano cast the room into shadows, its magic surrounding the air, filling it with emotion. The lights were all dimmed, bar one lone candle sitting above the fireplace. Her song was one of sorrow, a tale of heartache and pain. It was her song, never to be heard. Her secret. No-one could ever, should ever know this pain. It burned her, a white, hot iron clamping down onto every piece of her until she was numb.
That was the worst part. The numbness. The inability to feel anything. When this happened, she sat down and played. Played everything that she should be feeling, everything that she used to feel. And when she did this, the pain, for the briefest times, returned. She wanted it, cherished it…
…She deserved the pain.
"My punishment." She whispered to her only companion. Her fingers ran over the keys like they were old lovers. Each stroke bought a bar of pure pain and sorrow. Her song…Her escape.
How she wished to be free and to live happily. No sorrow. Just like the people she passed in the street. But that could never happen, she was condemned to her punishment, it was all that she deserved.
As she played, she opened her mouth and began to sing. Her voice was sweet, but slightly hoarse. The voice of a fallen angel.
I'm so tired of being here.
Suppressed by all my childish fears.
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
Cause your prescence still lingers here,
And it wont leave me alone.
These wounds wont seem to heal,
This pain is just to real,
There's just to much that time
Can not erase….
She stopped. That prescence. She knew it anywhere. It was…him. He hated her music…Hated her.
The shadow of his figure hit the wall in front of her, filling the doorway and darkening any light that had been left in the already dim room. Her fear could only be seen through the slight tremble of her hands as they lay on the keys of her companion…Her saviour.
"Get up." A soft growl. That's when she knew he was mad. He did not yell, did not rave, did not scream. He growled. And not a loud one either. A soft, menacing growl. One of a lion, or a tiger, moving in for the kill.
Slowly, not even sure why, she obeyed, feeling her knees straighten as she stood.
"Turn around". Again, she turned. An unseen force dragging her body to a fro. It had always been the same. She would, for one rebellious second, think of not obeying, of what it could mean for her. But she was to much of a coward. She knew she would never get away. Why run from your punishment?
"Come here." She knew what was coming, what was always coming. Inevitability. That was the one consistent thing in her life. She began to walk. One step…two steps…three steps…She was infront of him.
"Do you know why?" Why? She thought, a silent whisper in her mind. Of course I know why. But she did not say it allowed. Never could anyone know her inner thoughts, it was her sanctuary. A place where she could be herself without any repercussions…from anyone.
How she hated herself. Everything about her. Her cowardise, her looks, her perfect posture…Everything. She was worthless. Then the silence descended. The one so thick, a knife could cut through it. She knew was going to happen…And again, she did not stop it.
The next thing she knew, she was on the ground, a stinging pain on her face. A weight on top of her, crushing her. No air…Darkness. Pain…too much pain. And then, the numbness came back, descended on her like a bat in the night sky, taking her away. As she felt the numbness return, she answered is question, another silent whisper, never to be uttered aloud.
Why? Because I deserve it.
There was no hope for her. She was stuck, trapped…condemned. And in that instant, any foolish dreams and wishes she had ever had flew away with the bat that bought the numbness. They were free…
…She, was not.
