𝔥𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔞 ✩ 𝔰𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔲𝔰 𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨

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CHAPTER THREE

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tw: abuse

Darkness penetrated Fawley manor through every orifice as the family of four entered the hallway. Terror crawled up the spine of the youngest, nerves crippling her mind – causing her to lose any ability she had to think of an escape.

"Atlas. Upstairs," spoke the cold voice of Arrian Fawley.

He hesitated, as though fighting every instinct he had in his body. Half over them screaming at him to just go upstairs and mind his business, the other telling him to risk himself and try to protect his little sister.

"She meant no harm, father," Atlas tried.

"Upstairs. Now."

"She's just young, she'll mature in time," He persisted.

"Are you her father, boy?"

"No sir," He muttered, thinking that neither of the men in that room deserved the title of Ariadne Fawley's father. "I just think that -"

"It is not for you to think. Upstairs, now!"

"Father, pleas –"

Atlas was cut off by his father's hand striking his face, causing the half of his instincts telling him to protect his sister to flinch and recoil. Ending in his retreat upstairs. As the last click of Atlas' dress shoes on the stairs leading the first floor echoed away, a tight grasp pulled Ariadne by her hair into the closest room to the right. Which just so happened to be the parlour.

Ariadne brought her eyes to meet her father's, "I meant no harm, sir. I apologise."

A sharp fist upon her cheek threw her head back sharply, making her stagger backwards, and due to her heels, almost fall to the floor.

"Quiet, girl. I needn't hear your excuses," He murmured, reaching into his long jacket pocket and pulling out his aspen wand and twirling it between his fingers.

"Father, I meant no disrespect."

A blow to her ribs silenced her and threw her to the floor in a heap.

"I said quiet."

"Dad, please."

Another blow to her ribs caused a sickening crack to echo throughout the parlour. Sending a tear to trickle down her face and her hand to cradle her stomach.

"Enough of this foolishness," Arrian Fawley said, "Time for you to learn your lesson, girl. Crucio."

Waves of agony writhed through Ariadne, causing her to jerk about helplessly, like a fish out of water. A thousand burning needle were stabbed into her body at once, a thousand irons branded her skin. Smashing herself into the nearest furniture caused blood to trickle from an opening wound on her cheek and for her hand that once rested upon her surely broken rib to be twisted at the most awkward angle.

The young girls scream reverberated throughout the manor. It was music to her mother and father's ears, but it caused her brother as much pain as though he was suffering under the curse himself. He swore at himself for being such a coward, for running away to his bedroom. It was no wonder he wasn't in Gryffindor.

Ariadne was unsure for the duration she was under the curse, if felt like hours, days even. Though it was probably on a few minutes. That few minutes were enough though, enough to beg for her father to just kill her instead. Enough to beg the man who gave her life to take it away. Enough to make Arrian Fawley's lips turn upwards into a cruel smile. Eventually, the curse ceased yet the pain resided in her weary bones.

Closing her eyes gently, Ariadne prayed to whomever was controlling this little puppet show she was forced to call her homelife that they had mercy upon her, for she was just a little girl. She was so young and praying for all lights in her vision to fade and never relight, praying for all sounds to cease and never restart. Praying for her father's footsteps to stop and return to put his only daughter out of her misery.

Perhaps there was some mercy in the world, for Ariadne's prayers were not answered.

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Blinking slightly, her vision slowly came back into focus, and she was now longer laying upon the blood-stained marble floor of the parlour. But upon the I don't know how many thread count sheets of her bed, her silk covers pulled away as a warm wet cloth pressed sharply against her stomach, attempting to absorb the ever-flowing blood. Her head pounded harshly as she tried to sit up, only for a large hand to push her down again.

"Go back to sleep, Aria."

So, it was Atlas who was nursing her wounds, Ariadne realised, how lovely of him. She reached the hand that wasn't wrapped in bandages up to hold her head only to feel fresh stitches in place, tightly holding together the wound caused most likely by the cabinet closer to the door in the parlour. Atlas had always had to use Muggle remedies on her during the holidays for he wasn't allowed to use magic outside of school.

"You should be a healer Ats," She slurred.

"No thanks, got more work than I need being here with you."

A slight laugh erupted from her throat, causing her to realise how painfully dry it was. She looked at her elder brother, grimacing slightly, "S'matter Aria."

"Water."

Atlas nodded to her nightstand, upon which stood a tall glass of ice-cold water which felt like heaven to Ariadne's scratchy throat.

"Thank you."

Her head spun relentlessly, as though it were a pinwheel. She wished Atlas hadn't opened her curtains, but he needed the natural light to be able to see what he was doing.

"What's the time?" Ariadne garbled.

"Dunno, like half seven," Atlas shrugged.

So, she'd been unconscious for over eight hours. How delightful. As she desperately tried to rack her brains for what she was supposed to be doing at this point in time, a large hiss escaped her mouth as Atlas put a few drops of an unknown substance on the wound on her stomach and unwrapped in tightly in a bandage.

"I need to get ready for school," Ariadne remembered suddenly, once again trying to sit up – only for her brother to push her down again.

"No, you don't – you've plenty of time."

"I've things to do Ats, I don't want to be late."

Atlas shook his head, refusing his sisters request. He placed the blueish liquid that Ariadne guessed he'd used on her stomach onto her nightstand and took he unbroken hand in his. Looking at her sadly, he tried and failed to detangle blood from her hair.

"You need to be more careful, Aria."

"I didn't do anything wrong," she said attempting to supress the cry that threatened to erupt from her throat.

"I know," He soothed, "I know. But you're going to keep getting hurt, just do what they say – it's safer. Now go to sleep, I'll wake you up in an hour, then you can get ready. I'll finish packing your trunk for you."

Ariadne nodded and closed her eyes, entering her nightmare filled sleep once again.

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