TW: Violence, sexual assault, etc. Please read at your own risk.

Pain. That was what Evelyn felt when she began to tear through the fog in her mind. Pure, unadulterated pain.

Where am I? she asked herself but with her eyes seemingly unable to open, she couldn't do much except for rely on her other senses. It smelled damp so perhaps she was in a basement. That would make sense; if she kidnapped someone, it seemed like a logical place to put them. And there was an iron scent in the air. Dried blood.

There were no noises except for some muffled voices, possibly in another room. The way the sound bounced around the room made her wonder if she was somewhere made of stone.

Evelyn could feel metal on her arms binding her to whatever wooden cot she was lying on. It was uncomfortable but, then again, with how her body ached, anything would probably be uncomfortable.

It was cold. That was the only thing she could feel beyond the pain. Very cold.

How did I get here? Her mind was foggy, yes, but some things seemed a little clear. Walk yourself through what happened, Evelyn. Maybe that will tell you where you are.

Alright. She was with Tom in Hogsmeade. It was her birthday—her eighteenth, making her officially older than her father. And he had given her... a locket. Yes, that was what it was. Salazar Slytherin's locket. Beautiful and made of glass, gold, and emeralds that glittered in the light. He was about to tell her something when they appeared.

Death Eaters, the ones Tom had warned her about. She was standing behind him, allowing him to protect her while a storm came in. But neither of them could have predicted the Death Eater that snuck up behind her, placing a cloth over her nose and injecting her with some sort of potion before she could even make a sound.

And now she was here in some stony basement, her body in incredible pain and her mind surrounded by clouds.

I've been abducted. Normally, the thought would terrify her beyond all reason—she wasn't particularly powerful nor was she large enough to really defend herself if it came down to it—but she had a bond with the most powerful dark wizard in the world. She could just reach out to him and he could come.

Except that wasn't what happened. Because when Evelyn tried to feel for the bond inside of her, that little cord that connected the two of them, it was dark. As if the string had snapped and she was left with this sort of emptiness that was unfamiliar.

"Tom?" she sent into the void, hoping he would hear her. But her message seemed to have bounced around the walls of her mind, never finding him.

Okay, now she was terrified. Terrified and feeling completely empty. He wasn't there. He wasn't able to reach her.

What if he never found her? What if this was what her life looked like from then on?

Well, that was no matter. If this was truly the Death Eater faction that Tom spoke of, they probably wouldn't be keeping her alive for very long.

Evelyn began to shiver on the cot. She could feel that she wasn't wearing the same clothes she went to Hogsmeade in, something she didn't dare let herself think about too deeply. There were other things to worry about than modesty. Things like staying alive.

The voices in the other room appeared to be getting closer. She could hear them now.

"The storm is moving closer," a younger man said. She could tell without looking that he was nervous. "Do you think it's him?"

"No. He's powerful but even he cannot control the weather," a gruff man said. It sounded like the one that taunted Tom from across the village. I wouldn't be so sure of that, Evelyn thought. That storm appeared out of nowhere with its dark clouds, high winds, and booming thunder. She wondered if he somehow did it, if he somehow brought the barrage of dark weather. Nothing about Tom's powers could surprise her anymore.

"Will he come for the girl?"

"Not until we call him. With the potion you brewed, he would have no way of tracking her."

"And when are we calling him?"

"Seven days. We can have a little fun with her in the meantime."

Fear chilled Evelyn's bones. What did they mean by fun? It couldn't be anything good. No, it would just be one bad option versus one worse one. A week of torture, a week of assault, a week of anything.

"Tom, if you are out there, please help me," she pleaded but, again, she was met with an eerie silence.

"Do you reckon she's awake by now?"

"Definitely. The chloroform should have only knocked her out for a couple of hours at the most."

The voices were followed by the sound of boots getting closer. A lock clicked in a door before she heard the hinges squeak. Slow steps were taken until they stopped right in front of her.

"We know you're awake, bitch," the older man sneered. Suddenly, a sharp pain appeared in her stomach. A boot kicking her.

Evelyn coughed and opened her eyes. She tried to move her arms to cradle the injury but with her hands bound and only able to move a few inches, she couldn't.

The older man appeared before her. His hair was thinking and his eyes as dark as his skin, making his yellowed teeth seem bright. "That's more like it."

Her eyes flashed to the young man next to him. He couldn't have been older than twenty-three, though the intense bags under his eyes were throwing her off. He might have been a handsome man if it weren't for the fact that he drugged her, kidnapped her, and was now looking at her like she was some sort of meal. Somehow, Evelyn might have preferred the older one. At least his violence could be predicted. This other one seemed... unhinged. Wrong.

"W-who are y-you?" she stuttered. "W-where am I? Why am I h-here?" Damn it, Evelyn. Way to show them that you're not afraid.

The younger man smiled but it was the furthest thing from friendly. "Don't worry, love. You're safe." He hissed the word and she shivered. But she didn't like him calling her that, didn't like anyone who wasn't Tom calling her anything like that. "I'm Locke."

"And I'm Key," the other man finished. "You, my dear, are a hard thing to catch." He leaned close to her face and she really wanted to spit in it. But she wasn't the one that held the cards here. They were. Being brave, aggravating them, wasn't the intelligent thing to do. If she wanted to survive after day seven, she would do it by being intelligent, not by giving in to whims.

"Please let me go," she whispered. "It is not too late. I will not tell Tom of where you are or anything that has happened if you do. He will not kill you if I say so." It was a long shot—they seemed beyond reasoning—but it was worth a try.

The younger man, Locke, laughed. "Kill us? My dear, we're not idiots. We don't plan on living at the end of this week."

She furrowed her brows. "So why are you doing this?"

He leaned into her face. His eyes... they were terrifying. "Because we may not live in a week but neither will you."

"Lord Voldemort was the best thing to happen to the Wizarding World," the old man, Key, continued. His voice was as cold as the rest of the room. "We thought that Tom—who had been raised for this since birth—would only be better. But then we heard that filthy prophecy about a woman who held a piece of his soul. A weakness."

But she wasn't a weakness, at least not according to Sirius. He had said that they were stronger together. And she was much more inclined to believe her uncle, who learned about soul magic in Azkaban, than two deranged people who sought out some supposed "Seer" from Sri Lanka.

"So you want to kill me to make him stronger."

"No, you stupid girl!" Locke laughed.

"Then what?"

He grinned. "He will kill you."

. . .

Day One. After revealing that their plan was to lure Tom to wherever they housed her, Locke and Key spent hours torturing her. At one point, Evelyn retreated to the back of her mind when the beatings began to be too much. As their fists repeatedly hit her stomach—never her face, though, as Key insisted that she still "remain pretty"—Evelyn felt like her grandparents were still alive, haunting her from beyond the grave.

Weakness, said one blow to the stomach. Bitch, said another. This, apparently, was Key's idea of fun. Using her as a punching bag for his anger. Over and over and over.

Tom had killed their friends. They were the only ones of the movement left. He'd killed Key's son, Locke's fiancee. Their hands showed just how angry they were.

By the time they were finished, both men were sweating. They cackled at the sight of bruises along her body. Deep purple and green were forming everywhere but her face. She'd almost wished they hadn't alone, that one strike could grant her the darkness that would save her from it all. But wishes weren't granted, not in places like this.

They left her shaking on the cot without food or drink. She wasn't bloody anywhere except for a few places where their strikes had broken skin but those didn't bleed much. Evelyn considered herself lucky. She knew that the rest of the week would be worse.

"Tom, please," she cried but the cord still felt snapped.

That night, she dreamed of him saving her. Of him appearing at the cabin with his wand in hand and vengeance in his eyes. She dreamed of safety. She dreamed of anything but this.

. . .

Day Two. Key showed up that morning with a moldy roll and a glass of water. Evelyn didn't want to eat it for fear that it was drugged but he didn't give her a choice, shoving both in her mouth. A fog immediately overcame her mind, diluting any chance that she could feel the bond again.

"We are going out today," Key grumbled. "There is a noise charm on the cabin. If you scream, we will know and you will regret it."

And so they left her all day with nothing but her fear to keep her company, nothing but emptiness to fill her. She wasn't stupid so she didn't scream. She just waited for them to return, knowing that her life would be hell when they did but at least hell was predictable.

Evelyn didn't sleep. She was too afraid of the sound of their boots returning to close her eyes. Instead, she allowed her thoughts to drift to Tom. Where was he? What was he doing? Did he even care that she was missing? Why hadn't he found her yet?

Her thoughts were unfair—how would he find her without the bond, without any sort of clues as to where she was—but everything about this seemed unfair.

"Tom," Evelyn called out. But, again, the void responded. It felt like there was a black pit surrounding her but now, she wanted to fall in. The pit inside of her heart seemed so much longer.

Again, Evelyn dreamed of Tom. Again, her dreams were not answered.

. . .

Day Three. Locke and Key returned to the cabin with anger in their eyes. They took it out on her, taking turns casting jinxes that wouldn't scar anywhere but her memories. Evelyn tried to hold back her tears but the pain was stronger than her will and so saltwater burned down her cheeks with each blast of the wand.

"Where is your loverboy?" Locke taunted. "Three days and he has not yet come for you. The most powerful dark wizard in the world and yet he has abandoned you to a fate worse than death."

"Does he even love you?" Key returned. "Or are you just another step to gain his power? A pretty face, yes, but what else do you have to other beyond that pathetic feeling you call love? Is the son of Voldemort even capable of love? Surely not if you are here."

And she knew it was ridiculous—at least some part of her did but that part was locked away three days ago while the rest of her was subject to pain. Dark, hideous pain.

Locke was right. Tom wasn't there. He'd... he'd promised to protect her and yet there she was. At their mercy.

When Evelyn was finally left alone without food or drink again, she cried out to the void. "You promised! You promised you'd protect me and you. Aren't. Here."

But, of course, he didn't answer. And so, for the first time, Evelyn began to doubt Tom's love for her. The love that had, until that moment, transcended everything. The love that was felt to their souls through a bond that seemed beyond anything this world could ever offer.

Was it all a lie? Was he just using her to get power? Would he be glad when she was gone?

Evelyn let the pain consume her into a restless sleep. And on that third night, her dreams shifted from visions of Tom rescuing her to visions of a deep, black lake.

. . .

Day Four. That morning held food and drink—drugged, once again—but the rest of the day was blissfully... still.

At this point, Evelyn was too exhausted to question it. Yes, the fear in her mind was great but the pain in her body was greater. Nothing was broken (yet) but something inside of her began to feel broken.

It was the bond. Once stilled through a drug, now cracking with distance and her doubts. Doubts that only grew as the day grew long and the shadows of the room got larger.

Thunder echoed in the distance but it was miles away. Too far away to give her any hope.

But that night, something else echoed. The sound of boots followed by the click of a locked.

Evelyn looked over to the doorway to see Locke staring at her with a sadistic smile. "Hello, love," he whispered. The words seemed to crawl over her like spiders, burrowing in the deepest parts of her that she had desperately tried to keep safe. "We've had Key's fun. Now, it's my turn."

She won't say what happened next, only that she thrashed against the wooden cot before he cast the full body-bind curse. Evelyn wanted to scream, wanted to shout at him to leave her be, to let her have this one part of her body that still felt like hers even after years of abandonment, years of nothing but pain.

But all that exited her was a little whimper and a few tears.

Evelyn didn't bother calling out to Tom on the fourth night. And she didn't dream of him either. Her mind just thought of the lake and the way she wished it would swallow her whole.

. . .

Day Five. Despite the torture that had been inflicted on her, this was the day that Evelyn was most sore. Key returned to give her drugged food and drink and again to repeatedly punch her body with both his fists and his curses. Locke, thankfully, didn't return. She wasn't sure she could stomach his face, not after the way she still felt the echo of him between her thighs.

Evelyn cried that night. Full sobs that tore through her body as she thought of the way that her body was no longer hers. As the way she thought of how she had now been completely abandoned by everyone in her life, even Tom. As she thought of the way she wished for day seven to come only if to escape from this hellish landscape.

When she dreamt, she dreamt of the lake. Only this time, her father sat beside the shore. "You are so strong, darling," he whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. He seemed so young then and she so old. "So, so strong. I am so proud of you."

"I'm not proud of me." Her voice was hollow. Even that didn't feel like it belonged to her anymore. "They have taken everything from me."

Regulus placed his hand on her chin and smiled sadly. "Not everything."

. . .

Day Six. Locke returned. She remained frozen as he used her in ways no woman should be used. The only sounds were his grunts and the nearing thunder. When nightfall came, Evelyn wished for her father. He came to her in the dream, just standing by the lake and holding her hand while she silently sobbed.

And when she woke back up, Locke was still there. Still thrusting.

. . .

Day Seven. Evelyn was going to die that day. She just wished it would happen soon.

Y'all... this was a hard chapter to write. But as much as I hated recounting some of my own trauma, I think there's something to be said in finding strength after darkness. If this was too hard for you to read, I understand. Just know that things will get better. For Evelyn, for me, for you, and for everyone.

- SerpentsAndSongbirds x