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THE BEFORE. july 28th, 1996.
ANASTASIA ROMANOV HAD NEVER FELT FEAR IN THE WAY SHE FELT IT AS SHE SAT BESIDES HER FATHER. She hadn't spoken a word in nearly an hour, her head hung low and her eyes never leaving the Ebony table infront of her.
As if she had lost her senses, she heard no words spoken from those around her as her fingers picked at the loose threads on the the material that clung to the skin around her wrists. Her heart felt as though it was on the verge of pulsating out of her chest, her skin clammy as she heard the muted sound of laughter besides her.
The feeling of fingernails against her scalp pulled her from her trance and Anastasia slowly brought her head up to meet the eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange. Insanity assumed it's spot in her veins — running ramped among her blood as brown clashed against brown.
"Anastasia—"
His voice twisted and turned, digging into the deepest and darkest parts of her brain. She could feel the way he dug into her thoughts — her memories — her life. The way her own name echoed around her mind, void of sound to all others in the room.
Anastasia had never felt fear the way she felt it then as she was directly spoken to by the man who had aroused monstrous amounts of fear in all of the wizarding world. She had never felt fear the way she felt in that moment as her eyes followed the dark table, each vein of leeched color leading her closer and closer to the demise of her mind.
Brown eyes followed their way up the pale skin of the monster sat at the far end of the spoken table, following the dark robes adorning the monster who had taken her life and crushed it in his bare hands. Brown eyes followed their way up until they met the pulsating blue of the monster before her and her body felt the decay of death at his state.
Images of chaos flashed across her thoughts — images of terror and torment flooding her mind as she trembled against Bellatrix's hands. She had never felt the fear she felt in that moment as she stared at the monster before her.
"Anastasia Romanov—"
Against better judgment, Anastasia attempted to fight against the invader, her brain screaming as the thoughts of pain only began to scream rather than continue their hum. She fought against flashes of death — her friends the sole victims to the agony as she stood idle and watched.
Against better judgement, Anastasia turned away from the man and felt the sting of tears building along the rim of her eyes as the agony claimed another victim — this one her own body.
