EVIL
by howlsstthemoon
You only ever wanted to make your parents proud. To make them forget rebellious Sirius and remember you, only ever you, unforgotten forever.
x
Toujours pur, correct? Blacks, never to be ignored. Never back down. Never act as something lower than you are. You are the best of the best. You are royalty. You are a Black, Regulus Arcturus Black, and you are to be proud of who you are.
(But you've always been a little bit jealous of the scorched, out-of-place, permanently-etched mark into the soft fabric of the Black Family Tree you pass each day on your way to-what is it they're calling it?-your destiny. Your fate. Greatness.) (Evil.)
x
For you, being is like pretending. Pretending you believe in the horrible cruelties an arrogant, pale-faced man is uttering in his clear, high voice. Pretending that innocents deserve death; that you don't care as you watch people, breathing people, don't matter as their lives are ripped from them with two simple words, their bodies swaying into lifelessness like rag dolls.
But you're smart. You're brilliant. You're clever, you really are. And you know. Like a puzzle, you've put the pieces together and felt the horror in your stomach as you examine it as a whole.
So you pretend to believe, you pretend to be, for your parents. Because to you, it matters when you see the sparkle in your father's onyx eyes when he sees the Dark Mark burn against your arm, the curved smile on your mother's face as you wince, knowing you have to serve a man out for blood.
You've forgotten what real is like.
x
The sound of waves outside of the cave echo against the rocky walls, making your head ache and your stomach churn. Had it not been for the darkness, your sight would have been blurry. Your head pounds and you want to keel over and gag but their isn't enough strength in your sore bones to stand.
As unconsciousness takes over, you hear footsteps, moans, water dripping against the cold floor. There is something in your mind that tells you that you're going to die.
Your half-lidded eyes begin to close, your heart beating slower and slower as death comes closer. To no one in particular in this room where you are the only flame of life (beginning to burn out quickly), you whisper, "We're not all evil, you know."
A hand grabs you blindly and you don't even struggle. You welcome death with open arms. You're unafraid. Unafraid of everything now. Your hands shake and your voice breaks as your life ebbs away from you, slowly and painfully.
And then the world is Black, like it belongs.
