Cause with this money comes problems
and with these problems comes solutions,
And I use em'
When I'm faded i forget
She'd always been fucking crazy. Felt so fucking crazy, but never acted so crazy. Crazy on the inside, restrained on the outside. Crazy like the powder in front of her, taunting.
Glass tables, so clear, so simple.
Fuck the restraint.
Sometimes wild, irrational, like an undomesticated animal, prowling through the corridors and up and down the stairs, lashing out on the inside. Invincible. All powerful, lucky, amazing. She'd scream instead of laugh and laugh instead of cry. And it all made perfect sense in her eyes.
Sometimes catatonic. Absolutely listless, nothing distracted her quite like it. She could stare at her bedroom wall for twenty four hours straight. Not eat, not sleep, not drink. Or her mother would interrupt her and ask her why she was being so lazy and useless and she would look into her mother's penetrating stare completely blank. Eyes simply vacant. Feeling like she could have easily been a corpse.
And she could have been. She would have liked to have been, some days.
But crazy was like that. Crazy made her too tired and listless to even move, let alone find, or even think of a way to do it.
And within two days it would change. She would be invincible again.
When she was nine it became clear. Mother denied it, Father fought it, Sister couldn't understand it, Little Sister cried. And she shut herself away.
Little sister couldn't have understood it if she tried. She was perfect and beautiful, long blonde hair, blue inquisitive eyes, pale skin, red lips. She was the angel in a house full of devils.
Bellatrix; so dangerous, so volatile.
There were doctors and drugs. And mother had told her never to talk to the doctor, that only she would; only she would because the doctor wasn't like us and therefore he just didn't understand.
Doctor said things like 'early emergence', 'rare', 'very developed' and 'severe' quite frequently. And Mother controlled her temper well in his presence, her hand twitching towards her wand beneath her robes. She would unleash at home, and scream and rant and Father would disarm her before she could do some serious damage to the sacred tapestries.
Doctor was a muggle. The thought of it.
There were little white crystals that she had to mix into drinks or press onto her tongue and swallow, swallow, swallow until Mother could see nothing in her mouth. The little white tins which Mother had pleaded for even though Doctor had said that it was simply a test, that they didn't know yet if it really worked.
She was a lab rat.
But she felt flat. So flat. Not low, deep down low; how she felt when she stared at her bedroom walls for hours. Not high, like when she could do anything and it would be okay tomorrow.
She felt like nothing. And it was worse.
There was nothing lovely about those crystals that glittered in her hand like a thousand twinkling stars. Nothing lovely about their pure white colour, their texture, their consistency. Nothing lovely like the white powder laid out before her now.
Nothing was clearer: Don't tell, don't speak. No one can know.
No one will fucking know Bellatrix!
Not one.
Not Walburga or Orion or Ignatius or Lucretia.
Not the first born Black of the new generation. Crazy.
No one would know that Black blood was tainted; no one could know that something had misfired and something had gone absolutely fucking wrong.
So wrong.
And she switched crystals.
The Weeknd - Coming Down