"I'm going to fucking ruin you."
-
The Dark Lord conquers the wizarding world, Harry Potter is dead. Muggleborns are slaughtered. Halfblood's are shoved into imprisonment, conditioned to alter their beliefs and dictated to worship Purebloods.
Y/N Y...
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘 | "𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐩."
━━━━━━━━━━━━ D A Y T H I R T E E N/ F O U R T E E N [ part 2 ] « help » ━━━━━━━━━━━━
ϟ
𝐌𝐀𝐘𝟕, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟖 𝟓𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑
There is urine absorbing into the denim fabrics of my jeans. Agony engulfs the entirety of my body like acid bubbling beneath the skin of my flesh. Thick metal shackles are tightened around my wrist and held above my head, the linking chains adhere to the top flooring.
I think I may be hung from the ceiling, my toes hardly maintaining my body's balance.
There is a sensation of emptiness that overwhelms my presence. It is as though blood has spilled from my pores, leaving my veins hollow, dryly flaking. My absence of focus retorts from piecing a proper thought together, as if fragments of my skull are chipped and ricocheting around my vacant head.
I'm going insane, my tongue is crisply dry and the organ of my stomach might as well be useless. The last four? Three?— days, I have struggled to maintain my sanity, control my desire to drop dead.
I'll be fine.
I'll be fine.
I'll be fine
I'll be fine.
"Candles, a blue sky, mountains, a small village, and green grass." My voice croaks, naming five things my eyes can perceive. I ignore the three slabbed brick walls engulfing me, viewing the captivating horizon teasing me, as if it were dangling my freedom on a thin thread, waiting for me to chase my own tail. I disregard how the shackles adhered to my wrist permit me to desire to tear the joints linking my hand to my arm and I identify five things I have the ability to smell. "Gasoline, rained plants, sweet bread—"
My clothes are changing, a white nightgown replacing my dirtied purple shirt, erasing the jeans from my body with the purpose of reaching the cotton fabric below my knees.
"She's a pretty one," a deep voice mutters and my vision snaps to the two individuals ahead of me. The man with the auburn colored hair, an inadequate appearance of hunger plastering across his sharpened face as his eyes trail down my figure, and a familiar blond planted beside him.
