UNLEASH | D.M (UNRAVEL BOOK 6)

[ 10 ]

(Trigger Warning: Abuse, Blood, Gore, Torture, Violence)

Tucked away from the public eyes of the world and surrounded by perfect lush green lands was a majestic and eerie manor. A threshold where one of the sacred noble wizarding bloodlines, the Malfoy family resided. Now it had belonged to the Deatheaters and their dear master, Lord Voldemort.

The summer winds howled like crying wolves as the night deepened, and the leaves on the trees swayed and rustled, dancing and carrying their song like the flowing clouds overhead, never to return to the same spot. Though above all of the sounds of the summer night, the one sound that every single soul could hear even miles away from the manor was the hair-raising scream of a single young woman. It echoed throughout every wall of the Malfoy mansion, piercing every heart deeply with the horrible cries of anguish and anger.

Turning even the coldest of hearts to wrench from the heartbreaking scene and every cruel being to feel a tiny fraction of remorse. Causing even the bravest and dauntless souls to turn their heads away, unable to stomach the gut-wrenching sight that they were seeing.

Aine's screams traversed far into the distant night from the punishment her father bestowed on her in front of his army. She didn't know how long she was screaming nor how she managed to do it for what felt like forever. For all she knows, she was losing it, her mind was fracturing apart under the weight of all of the pent-up emotions and restrained power from the magical shackles.

Her once strong voice turned hoarse and weak, shouts dwindling into whimpers. Her throat was sore and dry, deprived of hydration and overexerted from straining her voice, but nothing hurt more than her eyes.

At first, all Aine felt was the slight discomfort of having her vision partially concealed by her father's hand. Then when the Dark Lord began muttering some sort of strange incantations like a chant, discomfort turned into irritation and her sight began to blur together like how it was when she woke up each morning. How her eyelids turned heavier and heavier with each breath, stinging with an unfathomable sensation. And just like the brief moment before the urge to faint, spots started to fill her vision.

Then there it was— The most excruciating pain surging across Aine's face. She didn't want to let out any sounds, knowing it would only please her enemies by watching her suffer. Try as she might bite down the pained moans that were itching to be released, her brows pushed together as they quivered like her body, her hands squeezing into fists as the shackles rattled and tightened around her wrist. They burn into her flesh, stopping all flow of magic she attempts to use.

As each second passed, it only got worse that she couldn't help but let a tiny bit of strangled whimper that turned into screams of agony in a snap of a finger. Her surroundings blurred together from the inky black tears that clouded her vision, streaming down her face and leaving a saltiness on her lips.

She could only see the taunting smirks of the Deatheaters, the corner of their lips curling even higher as they witnessed her judgement. The very sight of her crumbling apart compared to how emotionless and cold she was before fulfilled their internal satisfaction. Surpassing everyone, the man right in front of her smiled the biggest as he looked at her with a gaze not of tenderly fatherly love but of passionate starved longing for her power. Not even a speck of mercy or regret for harming his blood, his only child could be seen in his icy blue eyes.

How utterly disgusting, Aine thought.

The entire of Aine's face, especially her right eye felt hot, too hot— As if she had been sitting too near to the fireplace for far too long, it was beginning to blind her like the bright fiery flames. She could still make of the vague lines of Voldemort's features, including the curl of his eyes and lips as he went on muttering the spell.