Pain.

It's all he can feel as the guard walks away.

It's something he hasn't felt in a while, and if he has all memory of it has been wiped out of this pain, this burning; horrible pain.

He feels as if his lungs have ceased to work and sweat had beaded on his face forehead. His pupils are dilated and his hands are trembling. He wants to scream, to destroy whatever took his Mother- the only person who ever loved him; away from him.

He's quick to use his magic to put up a mask, a mask that makes it look like he is absolutely fine; sitting and reading one of the books his Mother has left for him, being his usual unbearable self.

But behind that mask he's screaming, crying; shattering everything in sight. Glass shards fly in the air and land on the ground, his palms and knuckles are cut and bruised from the punching, and his feet are bloodied from stepping on the glass that lay all around him; not that he cares, though. He can't feel the injuries.

There are bloody marks and hand prints left on the wall as he screams for somebody to tell him it's a lie, for the guard to come back and say that she's alive. He waits, falling apart, for this to be a dream.

He waits for while until his brother shows up, and his mask is seen through, brought down. The only other person who had ever seen through it besides his mother.

And it's a pity that it has to be when his hairs a mess, he's bloody, he's bruised.

When he's grieving.

For the first time in his whole life.

When he's crying.