Thirteen years.
Thirteen years of watching. Thirteen years of pain. Thirteen years of losing hope. For thirteen years I watched my children grow up. For thirteen years I felt the pain of them turning evil. For thirteen years I tried to warn them.
I watched them do their father's bidding. I watched them hurt others. I felt hopelessness engulf me. I told them not to listen to their father. I told them not to hurt others. I felt the hurt of them being tempted to be like their father. I warned them it wasn't what they thought, but they didn't understand.
Thirteen years.
Thirteen years of watching my son grow up. Thirteen years of seeing him look like the spitting image of Tom Riddle. Thirteen years watching him grow cruel and merciless. Thirteen years of watching him inflict pain on others.
My baby boy grew up. My son looked exactly like his father and acted like him around his opponents. It all started with taking out his anger with dark spells instead of talking about it to people. I watched him hurt others and I watched as they begged for mercy and he didn't listen. I told him not to become his father but he told me that this was who he was and I had to accept it. He told me this gently, but I knew he meant it.
Thirteen years.
Thirteen years of watching my daughter grow up. Thirteen years of seeing my face in her but his original brown eyes and hair. Thirteen years of watching evil corrupt her. Thirteen years of watching her being deeply involved in all evil schemes.
My daughter grew and looked just like her father as well, except her face seemed to have my structure. I hoped that maybe some of my heart would make its way into her, but my husband took control of her. He took her under his dark wing and showed her practically all he knew. She was immensely interested, and I knew I had lost her.
Thirteen years.
Thirteen years of resisting him. Thirteen years filled with crying when no one was looking. Thirteen years of clinging to a crumbling hope. Thirteen years until I gave in.
I pushed him away; I refused to follow my children's' path. I cried often when I was alone. My hope finally crumbled thirteen years later, on my children's sixteenth birthday.
Thirteen years.