Cold, hard, bitter, sour. The restless name that had not once left her lips in the past thirteen years. Bellatrix. Never Bella. Not to her, not anymore. No, never again. The cruel jabbing name of a sister whose face flitted around inside her mind, whose mad laughter echoed in the caverns of her tormented dreams. Whose cold, unsettling voice haunted the hidden shadowy recesses of her soul. Whose dark contemptuous eyes hung fuzzy purple in the unyielding air, glaring at her with such disgust, such disdain, that she would cower under that unflinching stare. She would see ghosts, it seemed. But...not ghosts really. Just shadowy figures indistinct after years that blurred faces and altered memories. Hazy, half remembered specters, silent and alone. But Bellatrixs eyes never left her. Shimmering black purple crystal balls, cold steel shinning stars that were forever imprinted in her tormented brain. Bellatrix, who had looked so much like her, but wasn't, not in the end, when it mattered. Bellatrix, her sister, her oldest friend. Bellatrix, who had been there for the beginning, but gone by the end. Whose dark amethyst eyes had held far more secrets that she'd ever know, ever want to know. Bellatrix, who was always so wild, always churned, always agitated and restless, seemingly unfeeling. When had it started? The tearing resentment, the uncontrollable anger, the half mad look that had come to haunt her eyes. On the brink, falling. She see's them, those purple bitter fiery eyes, flaming insanity, haunted hollow with those angers and yearnings only she could feel. They would watch her, she and Cissy, scared for her, yet at the same time terribly, secretly, shamefully afraid that they themselves were like Bellatrix. Never fear, the time will always come, and insanity is never the same. The darkness will always come, sometimes in a pair of glinting purple hatred. Alone, she would think of Bellatrix, half remembering broken scenes from a shattered childhood. There was one whisper ghost of a memory that would return, time after time, day after day, no matter what she'd do. Funny, that the memory she came upon most often was the one she'd most want to ignore, along with the dagger-sharp pang of hurt and rolling lucid anger, still as rank and fresh as on that day when she had confessed to Bellatrix her intentions to marry Ted, something that if she hadn't been so in love, she would never have considered doing. Bellatrixs face, younger and fuller, unmarked by the foulness of Azkaban, shockingly beautiful. She had known Bella would be angry, indeed, this wouldn't be the first time her sister would berate her for her sympathy for muggles, a sympathy which, as she grew older, she'd try to conceal, like a stale disease that would kill. But nothing had prepared her for the torrent of unrestricted fury. And her face- the cold hatred and betrayal fresh cut, and in that year long second, all Bellatrixs love for her sister died, vanished, replaced with erupting fury and scorn fiery as the coldest ice peaks, burning ice contempt. That was how she remembered her sister, that second, that face, that was the moment that murdered her dreams, screamed when she closed her eyes, that haunted her every waking hour. Bellatrix, eyes tear full of disdain.
If only they'd known, if only they'd-didn't matter. Spirals of smoke mean fire, like it or not, yet the choice is yours whether to ignore them. She was Bellatrix, irrepressible, unrestrainable, unstoppable, and unstable. Her sister, Bellatrix, of the bitter flaming ghosts eyes.
A/N- i won't update The Ties We Hang By until i completly finish it, which might be a while, because the plot keeps changing.
oh yeah, i don't own Bella, Cissy, or Andromada. I do not own the line 'Bitter Flaming Ghosts Eyes', its from les Miserables, in reference to Eponine.