His Apology

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   "Karina!" A voice sounded, threatening to rip me away from the few hours of sleep I had managed to obtain. I noted how the voice strangely resembled Mother's, but it couldn't be her, she was back home after all. Due to last night's events, I'd been tossing and turning all night and hadn't slept very much or very well. The hours I had managed to sleep felt as though only a few moments had passed by, like I'd blinked and it was suddenly day. "Karina!" the voice said again, this time managing to tear me from the sleep that I was so desperately trying to hold onto. "Merlin, Karina, I've taught you better than this. It's not ladylike to sleep in this late."

   "Mother?" I questioned, groggily opening my eyes to find her standing next to my bed, peering down at me with a stern look as she shook her head. Merlin, I must have been having some sort of nightmare, a very terrible one if I'd managed to conjure her up. "So scary," I grimaced. 

   "What's scary, darling?" Mother questioned and it suddenly dawned on me that maybe this wasn't a very scary nightmare, but reality. I watched as she reached into her purse and pulled out a small compact and a tube of lipstick before popping the lid open and applying the rouge to her lips.

   "Are you real?" I reached up to touch her only to have my hand slapped away.

   "Of course I'm real, you lunatic," she put her lipstick and mirror back into her purse. "My word, what drugs did they give you last night?"

   I immediately sat up in bed, accepting the tragic reality that she, indeed, was here. "What are you doing here, Mother?"

   She looked at me, surprised that I'd even had to ask as if the answer was obvious. "You were attacked last night, darling."

   "You know?" I asked, puzzled. I didn't think anyone besides those on the estate knew of the accident or would know for a while. I didn't think the Dark Lord wanted this information getting out in case he seemed weak for allowing intruders to enter his estate without his knowledge, especially not with everything else going on. 

   Mother scoffed, "Of course I know! It's all over the papers and the headlines are just magnificent. They're claiming you're a brave and loyal Death Eater, perfect for the Dark Lord." 

   Headlines? It seemed as though more than a few hours had passed me by while I'd been asleep. It felt like the world had been put on fast forward and I was playing catch up. Brave and loyal? Did they even know what had actually occurred or had the media outlets twisted the story into something else entirely? I wondered what my friends thought of me after reading the paper. Did they think of me a murderer? Or see me as the media made me out to be? 

   "Honestly, darling, don't look so surprised. The papers wouldn't dare speak illy of you, they know who you are and who you're to be."

   "I see," I said, feeling anxious that so many witches and wizards already knew so much. After last night, all I wanted was comfort to ease the anxiousness growing inside me, and although Mother was here, I knew she wouldn't do much to provide much comfort. "Is Father here?"

   "Yes, and Grandfather, but simmer down, you can't meet them yet. They're in a meeting with the Dark Lord."

   "Oh," I said, a sense of dread washing over me as I recalled our conversation from last night. He'd left without a word, without punishing me like he said he would if I ever disobeyed him. Truth be told, his silence had felt like a punishment in itself, like I'd let him down somehow and I couldn't help but feel the slightest bit guilty for talking to him the way I did just moments after he'd saved my life. His actions had confused me, but what confused me more was my reaction to them. I'd stood up for myself for once, and had expected to feel proud, but that wasn't what I had felt at all. I felt a little foolish and I didn't know how I'd be able to look him in the eyes. The thought of facing him made my head throb, or perhaps it was the concussion from where Lucinda had struck me. I winced and placed my hand over the painful bump forming on the side of my head. 

Marked • Tom RiddleWhere stories live. Discover now