𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒

「 you are nothing without me 」

   "She'll choose my father. Why sacrifice having everything for nothing?" The blonde asked him rhetorically, making him frown. In retrospect, she wasn't wrong but he was always saddened about how lowly she talked about herself, all of her family encouraged said talk too. Sure, he had told her that she wasn't all that but only because of his own wounded ego - not like he'd tell her that or this. But he actually thought quite highly of the Westbrook, he had heard his mother gush about both Eleanor and her mother Florence. Sometimes he wished that he could speak of what he knew, she deserved to know. The prophecy was worth much more.

    "And you would?" He asked, spinning her like the other pairs did. It reminded her of the time she danced with Marlene. Yes. She would. All she had left was to fight for those she loved, the ones that wanted to live.

   "You have nothing to lose when you had nothing to begin with." She whispered to him before switching partners. The boy was completely frozen for what felt like forever to him but was only a few seconds in reality. Sure, he may have been on the other side of the war but he wasn't completely devoid of emotions - unlike some of them. He remembered when he first met the Westbrook siblings, both constantly giggling or had a wide smile on their faces.

   Now neither of them did, not often anyways. Until today, he never noticed the small moments throughout the years. How the smile slowly slipped and was replaced by a fake one, especially Eleanor. The other sibling simply deteriorated at the sight of Eleanor's misfortune. When she was one, she didn't remember a thing but she smiled a lot. At two, she remembered being locked in her room for making a flower grow. At three, she fawned over at balls like a zoo animal. At four, she split open her hand and deemed worthless by her own father. At five, her father had begun to train her in order to control her magic. At six, she was shouted at in front of her new friends for being too 'boyish' even though Adelaide had done the same and got away with it. At seven, she spent the week at Lily Evans' house with her sister because her father was angered by the fact that she was 'too good' at magic to be normal. At eight, she was ignored on her own birthday as her sister's skills were flounced to get a better deal. At nine, she wasn't mature enough because she played a game of tag with the other children. At ten, her mother was dead and her father couldn't stand the sight of her because she was too alike to Florence. At eleven, she was too fat even though she was the skinniest child there - being told to shove her fingers down her throat. At twelve, she smoked her first cigarette whilst fully grown men passed around a magazine with her face plastered across the glossy pages. At thirteen, she thought she was in love with a man that used her for her body. At fourteen, she snorted her first line and popped her first pill. At fifteen, she was sleeping around to forget his touch before dragging a knife down her stomach in a drunken fit - hoping that she'd stay in the darkness forever. At sixteen, she was addicted to being perfect just like her father wanted and ransacked the pills in Milan - along with the multitudes of mistakes she made that summer.

   Now she was seventeen. And not to be a pessimist but life was taking a sharp turn anytime soon. Things were about to get much worse, she knew that. Hope was blinding and usually misleading but was the only thing that held together people's tethered sanity. That was the thing, Eleanor wasn't hopeful. Series of events from her past just disproved any theory that hope could try and conjure.

♱

    "Eleanor, dear." Her father's voice rang out from behind her as she sat alone again, spending time to down a tray of drinks. That may have not been a good idea. She was quite tipsy. "I have someone that you should meet." His tone was rather stern after examining the situation she was in.

   Turning her head, she looked from Conan to the man by his side. He was middle-aged, potentially a few years younger than her dad. The man was adorned with black wavy hair, a cold glare, a sharp jaw, and the visible signs that came with ageing. His entire aura was quite menacing and people seemed to hold a look of cowardice when he was present. Though the festivities continued, the atmosphere had remained tense around this man. She could not give a single fuck. What's the worst he could do - kill her?