[Chapter Three] Cut
Twilight dimmed with aching slowness. Lena stared blankly off her balcony, grasping the stone railing with unintentional puissance. Forcing herself to push the wall in her mind down, she became quickly overwhelmed with suppressed emotions. It took her nearly a minute to recover herself, pushing the wall back up, shoving all the terrifying images behind.
If I were to meet with the Dark Lord tomorrow, I would have no control over my emotions. My thoughts.
And he would kill me for my defincency.
The girl let the wall drop, prohibiting herself from raising it once more. The visions fired incessantly at her, overpowering her control. Heaving in a thick breath, Lena gasped, clutching her chest and falling to her knees. She attempted to heave in another thick breath. Somehow, the wind had been knocked out of her, a knife was stabbing her in her windpipe: She couldn't breathe.
Panting desperately for precious life, Lena collapsed to her side. His face flashed against her eyes: Draco. The air flowed in, tears streamed out uncontrollably. Pulling her knees close to her chest, she cried out for him. Her voice rang out like shattered glass, coarse gravel against the bleak summer breeze.
The pain in her chest ached worse than the Dark Mark searing in her flesh for weeks after its imprint was spelled into her arm. The vacuous, hopeless pangs that ran through her were worse than the arctic chill from the Dark Lord's touch. The guilt more agonizing than anything she could depict, she merely wanted it to end. So alone, so cold, though I don't want to die.
Misery plagued Lena, she had blocked so much out for so long. Time did not exist in her perpetual torment, and when it finally ended, she was numb.
Her cheek rested on the cold stone, the moon taking over the sky, the tears finally stopped streaming out. She pushed the thought again repetitively, denying that it contained any truth. But the nagging in the back of her head insisted, pushing the thought back again, but she didn't submit to it, fighting against it once more.
Lena pushed her numb body from the stone, resting her back against the door frame. She pushed the wall back up. Not allowing herself to wallow in self-pity.
I can overcome this, I will not cry when I am in front of the Dark Lord.
After a few minutes, she let it down again, and let the thoughts stream in. She expected to become overwhelmed again.
Draco's silvery gray eyes met hers in the same nightmarish repetition. The life draining from them, as though they were painted watercolor, being washed away. A slow breath escaped through her clenched teeth, and as she blinked, a tear leaked out.
The abysmal thought was pestering again, nagging against her. She let it through, allowing the hopelessness to overcome her.
Draco is dead.