Chapter Four

Fear, Itself

Undated excerpt from the Journal of Adria Thornwood

What have I done?

What have I done?

How could I have – no, I mustn't think of it any longer. I cannot.

How –

Stop, I must stop!

How long have I been gone? I've lost all track of time; it has no meaning for me now.

Why can't I stay here forever? I wish I could stay in this room forever. I have no desire to see their faces as they look on me with pity. Shame has burned a hole in my soul the size of the sun.

Will they be able to piece together where I was? How I was lured from my bed by him? I can't tell them, I shan't tell them!

I can't think of it anymore, but I can't stop thinking about it!

How long was I in that cold, damp room? Hours, days or weeks, it's all beginning to run together in my mind. Why did they allow me to escape? I'm not fool enough to believe I could have accomplished it on my own.

I'm so cold. I'll never be warm again. My hands are trembling so much I can hardly use the quill. How can I allow myself comfort and warmth when he's lying alone and cold?

There is no one I can tell what I know, no one I can turn to. Who would believe me?

How could I have been so blind, so trusting? He wrote; I ran to his side. It was so easy for me to be fooled; I never expected what I was going to find.

Never did I suspect what he was involved in. How could he have betrayed me, our family?

I never expected how deep he was with them. Neither did anyone else, he said while he watched Croup and Vandemar torturing me under the order of their master, that's what made it so brilliant!

Well, where has your brilliance gotten you?

How could he have stood over me with that cruel smile on his face, watching as I crawled towards him, begging him to stop and crying out for him to help me? Who murdered my brother and left this evil twin in his place? When did he turn the final corner to his undoing? What pushed him over the edge?

I don't understand!

There are so many questions running though my mind, over and over again endlessly.

Why won't it stop? Oh Merlin, make it stop!

I must run. I want to run, to hide, and to disappear.

Where can I go? Where can I go? They're watching me. I can feel their eyes on me even as I hide beneath my bed. I just want to disappear forever!

Can I do what my mind cries must be done?

No, I can't. I can't—I'm mad! I must be going mad!

I'm a coward.

I have no choice. I must do what he asked of me.

Riddle said he'd kill my parents if I don't. I believe him.

I'm so cold. I can't stop shaking.

What am I going to do?

Did Father know what Gabriel was involved in? Part of me can't fathom how he didn't know, could he have been as blind as I was?

I don't know. I can never say anything; I can trust no one.

From the moment I awoke on the steps, voices run over and over again in my mind. "Where have you been? Where have you been? What has happened?"

Stop it! Stop it! Why won't they stop?

I can't speak. My throat closes at the thought of speaking his name aloud. Their voices, why won't they go away? I can't think anymore.

I can never tell them. How could I tell them? They won't understand. They'd never forgive me!

Where is my wand? What has Tibby done with my wand? I need it, want it, where is it?

I must find my wand.

I have to stop before I start crying again. I must find my wand!

I was supposed to be safe here!

Why do I feel I'll never be safe again? How can they expect me…How can they demand me to…Why him?

I think I'm going insane. I must be going insane. This should never have happened. Why me?

Why me?

The heaviness of the wand in my hand offers me no comfort.

I'm so tired, but I must stay awake. I can't allow myself sleep because what if they lied? What if there is no plot, no boy to watch over, no Heir of Slytherin to report to? What if they come for me while I'm asleep?

I hate him. I never wanted this. How could he be so brainwashed to believe Riddle will continue to treat him as an equal.

I'm a pawn. I'm nothing more then an expendable pawn, used for ammunition.

I hate him. I HATE HIM!

But, but I don't mean for it to happen! It won't be my fault!

It won't be my fault. If I continue to think it for long enough, will I begin to believe it?

When will this end?

I'll never be free of them. Would I be better off dead like him? Why can't I be strong enough to end it all on my own?

How could he say he loved me and hurt me so?

Where can I hide? There is nowhere for me to go. There isn't anywhere I can hide where they can't find me. There's no one I can turn to; he made sure of that. He laughed when I said I would run.

"Would you, little Adria," Lord Voldemort said, putting his hand on the top of my head. "Would you run and be able to live with yourself knowing the blood of your murdered parents was on your hands?"

Oh Merlin, I can still feel the touch of his hand on me. I need to wash, need to get rid of the feeling of him and the blood from my hands. I think I'm going to be sick.

I'm going to be sick.

My tears are staining this page and my hands, oh my hands, they hurt so much.

It hurts to breathe. I can't catch my breath. What have their spells done to me?

What have I done?

Why can't I stop the tears from falling!

Oh, Merlin, help me.