Descent into Darkness

Burning

Chapter 3 Burning

September 3, 1982 

Another hour, another glimpse of sanity. But I am begining to realize why Fudge gave us these journals. It was not an act of kindness, but one of the worst torture. For what else would we be able to write about but the horrors of our past with dementors constantly feeding on our every thought, plunging us into inescapable despair. And as the days continue, I can feel myself coming to despise this book, more so because of the insatiable hunger I have for its blank pages. With every moment that passes, I know I am losing more and more of myself and it is crippling. What does a person have left when the last piece of their soul, their identity is ripped away? I want to give in, to quit. It would be so easy, like going to sleep. Is there any point in fighting anymore? But then I get this book and start writing, and my reasons for staying alive, for fighting come back and I know I can't give in. 

When I was sent here and given my sentence, I expected the darkness the dementors cause, but I never expected the pain. It isn't physical pain, because I could deal with the physical pain. This pain is inside and there is no escape. It is like someone is inside my skin, burning me from the inside out. I writhe on the stone floor, begging for death, for this to end. Last night I cut my arm on the edge of my food tray and I relished in the physical pain. It was tangible and external and it helped the pain inside fade just enough. But it didn't last, not nearly long enough. The fire returned with a vengence, trapping me in a literal heII. And once again sleep eluded me. I couldn't escape into oblivion. And while I writhed on the floor, the cold from the stone biting into my skin, I heard his voice. It was as clear as if he was in the cell with me. I kept looking around, begging for a glimpse of his face. If I could hear his voice, he had to be nearby. Then he started screaming as a woman laughed, her voice as cold and sharp as broken ice. And with one last utterance from the woman, the screaming stops and I hear a muffled thump, as if something hit the floor. That is when his screaming is replaced with my own. I scream and scream until I am coughing blood. But when my screaming stops, the tormenting vision begins again, replaying itself in my head over and over and over. 

But now, as I write, the vision finally ends only to be replaced by another, this one from an earlier time. And since I can't keep this memory hidden, I guess I will let it loose. Maybe if I let the dementors have these memories, I will be able to forget him and the torture will finally end. Maybe I'll find the strength to let go. 

It is the first weekend of my sixth year and Saturday morning dawns bright and early. My eyes snap open as I hear an urgent tapping somewhere nearby. I sit up in bed and look around. My mother's owl is tapping on the glass of the window, seeking entery. I slide open the window and he flutters in, landing on my bed. I pull the letter off his leg and rip it open as he takes flight and soars out the open window. 

The letter is from my mother and with every word, I feel myself filling with anger and hatred. When I am done, my eyes are filled with angry tears and my hands are shaking. I shove the letter roughly into my pocket, pull on my robes and rush out of the room. I barely even notice where I am going until trees are flashing past. Without even thinking about it, I have run to the cave where I would always meet Adraxius last year. I sink into one of the ripped and faded arm chairs. and let the tears fall. I don't even hear him until he says my name. I quickly try to wipe away any trace of tears and clean my face, but he isn't fooled. 

"What's wrong Bella?" he asks, sitting in the chair next to mine and leaning close. 

My mother, she did something terrible," I tell him. 

"What is it? What did she do?" he asks quietly. 

"That boy, Rodolphus Lestrange, he went to her last night and told her he wants to marry me. She practically sold me to him. I have never said more than 2 words to him and now I am expected to marry him," I say and another wave of anger washes over me. 

"So don't do it, you have that choice Bella, you don't have to marry him," argues Adraxian. 

"No Drax, I don't have that choice. When I get home for summer, he will be there to get me. I am already considered his property and there is no escape," I say desperatly. 

"Yes, there is. We'll leave Bella, we'll run away. They will never find us," he insists. 

"You would do that? Why?" I ask taken back at the suggestion. 

"Don't you get it Bella? You are my best friend. Whenever anything happens, good or bad, I can't wait to tell you and talk to you about it. You have to have realized by now that I love you Bellatrix. I would do anything for you," says Ardaxius, reaching out and wrapping his long fingered hand around mine. 

"You...you love me?" I ask breathlessly. 

"I have since that first time I brought you here. There was just something about you that got under my skin and from that moment on, I knew there was never going to be anyone else," he says. 

"I...don't know what to say," I mumble and he smiles. 

"Well if you want my advice, you could say 'I love you too Drax' but no pressure," he says with a light laugh. 

"I love you too Drax," I whisper. 

His other hand slips up to my face to cup my cheek. He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip, making my skin erupt in gooseflesh. His skin is hot against mine and then his face his slowly getting closer to mine. His warm breath brushes across my face, making me shiver. Then, finally, his lips are on mine. They are soft and warm and gentle. His arms wind around me, pulling me as close as the arms of our chairs will allow. His lips part under mine and his tongue sweeps the seam of my lips. I open to him and the kiss deepens. Then, somehow, we are on the floor. The hard, rough stone is pressing into my back as he hovers over me, his body pressed against mine. 

He pulls back, breaking the contact of our lips and stares down at me, his dark green eyes burning. One of his hands reaches for my face, brushing my hair away from my face and tracing the lines of my face down to my jaw. 

"You don't know how long I have been waiting to do that," he says quietly. 

"I think I have a good idea," I say, my voice shaking. 

"So does this mean you will run away with me?" he asks, leaning in to kiss my forehead and then each of my eyelids and then along my jaw. 

"Do you really think we can hide from them Drax?" I ask, barely able to form a coherent response. 

"If it is the last thing I do Bella, I will protect you from them," he says, his lips moving against my ear. 

"Okay, before the year is over and I have to go back to my mother, let's run away," I agree. 

"I won't ever let them have you Bella, I promise. We will leave before the year ends, you have my word," promises Adraxius. 

The memory fades as if someone is wiping it off a chalkboard. That was only the begining of our relationship that year. By Christmas, I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Adraxius and judging by what happened that unforgettable Christmas day, Adraxius felt the same way. But that story will have to wait because the last few moments of my hour are slipping away. And though these short jaunts down memory lane are cathardic in a way, they are also overwhelming and heart-wrenching. With every recalled word it gets harder to breathe. But I have decided to make a record of Adraxius, because if I allow myself to lose him, to forget him, then it will be as if he never walked on this Earth. There is no one left but me who remembers what it was like to love Adraxius. His family and friends are gone and I am his only tie to life. So if only for that reason, I can't let myself forget, no matter how painful it is. Because someone like Adraxius deserves to be remembered, even if it is only by an insane murdering witch like me. And even if it finally gets to be too much and I finally give in and let death claim me, this book will live on as a final testement to the truth and a testement to that once in a lifetime, life changing love and the torture that the loss of that kind of love causes. 

And now I have to relenquish my hold on sanity for another night. The demons from my past are my only company as the walls close in, suffocating my will to live. Every night it becomes exponentially harder to hold on to myself and pretty soon I won't be able to hold on any longer.