Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.
A/N: I have been struck by a bit of extra creativeness. I had a different chapter planed out to be the twelfth chapter in this story, but I had the urge to write this chapter in its place and to push the real chapter twelve back. I call this chapter my "Irvine Welsh" chapter. I am sure now I will have to explain why I have decided to call it that, so here goes. Irvine Welsh is the brilliant writer of two of my favourite novels, 'Trainspotting' and 'Porno'. The thing about Irvine Welsh's writing style is that it is very choppy yet linier. He will give you one or two main characters and will alternate writing styles and points of view between these main characters and even some chapters will be narrated or written from a smaller characters p.o.v. If you ever saw the film 'Trainspotting' staring Ewan McGregor as Renton you should know that the whole book isn't from his p.o.v. Though most of it is, some of it is told by Sick Boy and Spud and even Begbie, and in 'Porno' it is mostly told from Sick Boy's and a girl named Nikki's p.o.v. Now this is all well and good, but when it is also written in accent it gets very confusing when you begin reading but gets easier to understand as you adapt to the writing style (much like when you first begin reading 'A Clockwork Orange') I suggest both books if you think you can handle them. They are very adult reads and quite graphic with one centering around the use of heroin in Scotland in the 80's, and the other centering around the attempts of the same crew, now off the junk, making a porno ten years later. They are brilliantly written, but they are not for the easily offended.
So anyway, that is my long-winded explanation of both my inspiration for this chapter and for who Irvine Welsh is. Now on with the story.
Chapter 12 – Rebekah's Makeshift Journal (a.k.a. The Irvine Welsh chapter)
My head is killing me. I woke up today and besides still being covered in blood, I now have torn my robes in a somewhat obscene fashion. I can't do anything about it; I can't really do anything right now. The room I was in till yesterday was a bit more bare, but this is still a prison. It is a great deal better than being chained to a wall though. My wrists are raw from those chains. They moved me here yesterday saying I needed more comfort, it was ordered. This is so degrading. I am a strong witch but without my wand I am powerless. Leave it to me to get into something like this right after my chance at happiness was finally made available. It was stupid to leave the school. I would cry if I had any tears left. My tears have stained all the other parchment I have written on so far. I know they are enchanting this parchment so they can read what I am writing but I don't care, I have nothing else to do. I am so worried about Neoma and Remus. I try not to think about them to much, but my attempts to do so have been futile. Most of the tears I have shed have been for them. I have been here for weeks. They have fed me in between sessions of torture, but I have no idea how long it has been exactly. My only hope is that Neoma is being taken care of.
I knew that Jonathan would be angry, but I had no idea what he would resort to in order to get back at me for betraying him. I don't know where he is now. I haven't seen him since he dumped me here. When we got back to the house he attacked me. I had gone into the bedroom to pack up some of my clothing when he walked into the room and grabbed me by the hair. I had put my wand down on the bed and couldn't reach it for the life of me. He dragged me out of the room almost ripping most of my hair out of my head. I tried to get away. I tried harder then ever, but years of not being able to do anything makes it hard for one to fight back against an Auror. He threatened me with the Cruciatus curse numerous times. He dragged me to the fire place, and I just noticed before he flooed us out of there that the house was utterly destroyed. He had knocked over lamps, broken picture frames, and even torn apart the cushions to my most treasured sofa. I loved that sofa more than anything in that damn house. Seeing it like that was like some grim symbolism of the fact that I will probably never see Remus again.
I seem to have found tears again.
It seemed for a brief and fleeting moment that I would finally be with him. I would do anything to be reunited with him. The look on his face when I gaze into his beautiful amber eyes makes it seem like my world is complete. I only hope that he will know enough to not let Neoma go back to Jonathan. I would rather my daughter die than be in the hands of a traitor. Jonathan, I have learned is now a Death Eater. How quant. It appears to be "My fault" as he pointed out when I asked him why he was doing this. He flooed us to Malfoy's, and promptly swore to become a Death Eater and spy on the Ministry for them if Lucious would "take care" of me. I can't believe I let that man touch me. He was never really that good at it, and in almost 16 years of marriage when I did let him he never once was able to get me pregnant. That should have told me what a useless scumbag he was. No deity in it's right mind would let a thing like Jonathan reproduce.
I disgust myself with how low I sink when I write about him up here. I know he probably reads my insults and tells Lucious that it is time for another round of an unforgivable curse. I don't care though. I could not hate him more. I hope someone makes his death slow and painful, the way he is making mine. He is such a coward. He can't even let his anger kill me himself he has someone else do it.
The first night here, I prayed for death. I hoped for it. The pain is no longer unbearable. It is more annoyance now. I have been hexed and cursed so many times I doubt there is a pain inflicting spell that has not been thrown at me. My only conclusion is that the killing curse is not too far away in my future. Days ago I wished for it, now I hope against it. I want to see my little girl again. I want to braid her fair hair and kiss her button nose. Her nose reminds me so much of Remus. I want to escape somehow. I know it is not possible. I need to stop thinking about Remus and Neoma. It makes everything seem so much more hopeless.
My thoughts keep turning to that mangled sofa. I loved that sofa more than any other artifact in that house. That sofa was in a way my sanctuary. I made a point of sitting on it alone if I ever missed Remus. I wrote almost every letter to him from that sofa. I know it is insane, but I swear that even after twelve years that sofa still smelled like him. I would give anything to go back to that sofa twelve years ago, to have his body over mine, his kisses covering my face, the lustful look in his eyes, our mingled sweat and tears, his soft touch, the way his hair fell into his amber eyes as he looked down at me, and the way he just about fell upon me exhausted and spent as we both fell asleep. I want to be back there again. I want to be on that sofa with his naked body lying on top of me. That was the happiest moment of my life. All the other times we made love were nothing next to that time. It was needed, wanted, wonderful, perfect, and numerous other adjectives that I can't think of in my present state. It is amazing to think that Remus and I have not made love in over twelve years, and even when we did make love those countless times it was only in the span of two months. I have always craved his touch, and my craving is now stronger than it has ever been. I was so close to having it. I would have been able to have openly and not have to sneak around with the only man I have ever loved. All things keeping me from being able to be with him were finally gone. My mother had passed away, Jonathan now knew the truth, and I was no longer afraid to leave. I pray I make it through this ordeal just so that I can kiss him again. I wish for my own life to be saved just to feel his touch once again. I hope for some sort of salvation from this hell I am trapped in just to make love to him one more time, I think that one is long over due.
Now as each day goes by I begin to doubt that these things will ever happen again. I just want to be with the ones I love once again.
A/N: I have been struck by a bit of extra creativeness. I had a different chapter planed out to be the twelfth chapter in this story, but I had the urge to write this chapter in its place and to push the real chapter twelve back. I call this chapter my "Irvine Welsh" chapter. I am sure now I will have to explain why I have decided to call it that, so here goes. Irvine Welsh is the brilliant writer of two of my favourite novels, 'Trainspotting' and 'Porno'. The thing about Irvine Welsh's writing style is that it is very choppy yet linier. He will give you one or two main characters and will alternate writing styles and points of view between these main characters and even some chapters will be narrated or written from a smaller characters p.o.v. If you ever saw the film 'Trainspotting' staring Ewan McGregor as Renton you should know that the whole book isn't from his p.o.v. Though most of it is, some of it is told by Sick Boy and Spud and even Begbie, and in 'Porno' it is mostly told from Sick Boy's and a girl named Nikki's p.o.v. Now this is all well and good, but when it is also written in accent it gets very confusing when you begin reading but gets easier to understand as you adapt to the writing style (much like when you first begin reading 'A Clockwork Orange') I suggest both books if you think you can handle them. They are very adult reads and quite graphic with one centering around the use of heroin in Scotland in the 80's, and the other centering around the attempts of the same crew, now off the junk, making a porno ten years later. They are brilliantly written, but they are not for the easily offended.
So anyway, that is my long-winded explanation of both my inspiration for this chapter and for who Irvine Welsh is. Now on with the story.
Chapter 12 – Rebekah's Makeshift Journal (a.k.a. The Irvine Welsh chapter)
My head is killing me. I woke up today and besides still being covered in blood, I now have torn my robes in a somewhat obscene fashion. I can't do anything about it; I can't really do anything right now. The room I was in till yesterday was a bit more bare, but this is still a prison. It is a great deal better than being chained to a wall though. My wrists are raw from those chains. They moved me here yesterday saying I needed more comfort, it was ordered. This is so degrading. I am a strong witch but without my wand I am powerless. Leave it to me to get into something like this right after my chance at happiness was finally made available. It was stupid to leave the school. I would cry if I had any tears left. My tears have stained all the other parchment I have written on so far. I know they are enchanting this parchment so they can read what I am writing but I don't care, I have nothing else to do. I am so worried about Neoma and Remus. I try not to think about them to much, but my attempts to do so have been futile. Most of the tears I have shed have been for them. I have been here for weeks. They have fed me in between sessions of torture, but I have no idea how long it has been exactly. My only hope is that Neoma is being taken care of.
I knew that Jonathan would be angry, but I had no idea what he would resort to in order to get back at me for betraying him. I don't know where he is now. I haven't seen him since he dumped me here. When we got back to the house he attacked me. I had gone into the bedroom to pack up some of my clothing when he walked into the room and grabbed me by the hair. I had put my wand down on the bed and couldn't reach it for the life of me. He dragged me out of the room almost ripping most of my hair out of my head. I tried to get away. I tried harder then ever, but years of not being able to do anything makes it hard for one to fight back against an Auror. He threatened me with the Cruciatus curse numerous times. He dragged me to the fire place, and I just noticed before he flooed us out of there that the house was utterly destroyed. He had knocked over lamps, broken picture frames, and even torn apart the cushions to my most treasured sofa. I loved that sofa more than anything in that damn house. Seeing it like that was like some grim symbolism of the fact that I will probably never see Remus again.
I seem to have found tears again.
It seemed for a brief and fleeting moment that I would finally be with him. I would do anything to be reunited with him. The look on his face when I gaze into his beautiful amber eyes makes it seem like my world is complete. I only hope that he will know enough to not let Neoma go back to Jonathan. I would rather my daughter die than be in the hands of a traitor. Jonathan, I have learned is now a Death Eater. How quant. It appears to be "My fault" as he pointed out when I asked him why he was doing this. He flooed us to Malfoy's, and promptly swore to become a Death Eater and spy on the Ministry for them if Lucious would "take care" of me. I can't believe I let that man touch me. He was never really that good at it, and in almost 16 years of marriage when I did let him he never once was able to get me pregnant. That should have told me what a useless scumbag he was. No deity in it's right mind would let a thing like Jonathan reproduce.
I disgust myself with how low I sink when I write about him up here. I know he probably reads my insults and tells Lucious that it is time for another round of an unforgivable curse. I don't care though. I could not hate him more. I hope someone makes his death slow and painful, the way he is making mine. He is such a coward. He can't even let his anger kill me himself he has someone else do it.
The first night here, I prayed for death. I hoped for it. The pain is no longer unbearable. It is more annoyance now. I have been hexed and cursed so many times I doubt there is a pain inflicting spell that has not been thrown at me. My only conclusion is that the killing curse is not too far away in my future. Days ago I wished for it, now I hope against it. I want to see my little girl again. I want to braid her fair hair and kiss her button nose. Her nose reminds me so much of Remus. I want to escape somehow. I know it is not possible. I need to stop thinking about Remus and Neoma. It makes everything seem so much more hopeless.
My thoughts keep turning to that mangled sofa. I loved that sofa more than any other artifact in that house. That sofa was in a way my sanctuary. I made a point of sitting on it alone if I ever missed Remus. I wrote almost every letter to him from that sofa. I know it is insane, but I swear that even after twelve years that sofa still smelled like him. I would give anything to go back to that sofa twelve years ago, to have his body over mine, his kisses covering my face, the lustful look in his eyes, our mingled sweat and tears, his soft touch, the way his hair fell into his amber eyes as he looked down at me, and the way he just about fell upon me exhausted and spent as we both fell asleep. I want to be back there again. I want to be on that sofa with his naked body lying on top of me. That was the happiest moment of my life. All the other times we made love were nothing next to that time. It was needed, wanted, wonderful, perfect, and numerous other adjectives that I can't think of in my present state. It is amazing to think that Remus and I have not made love in over twelve years, and even when we did make love those countless times it was only in the span of two months. I have always craved his touch, and my craving is now stronger than it has ever been. I was so close to having it. I would have been able to have openly and not have to sneak around with the only man I have ever loved. All things keeping me from being able to be with him were finally gone. My mother had passed away, Jonathan now knew the truth, and I was no longer afraid to leave. I pray I make it through this ordeal just so that I can kiss him again. I wish for my own life to be saved just to feel his touch once again. I hope for some sort of salvation from this hell I am trapped in just to make love to him one more time, I think that one is long over due.
Now as each day goes by I begin to doubt that these things will ever happen again. I just want to be with the ones I love once again.