Black suits

Chapter 25 ❁ The darkness

Dead?

Not yet. I wished my body would finally fail, let me leave this place.

Day fourteen I was hysterical. I decided there was nothing else.

I took the needle that had been in my arm once upon a time and held it to my wrist. I was going to end this. End everything.

I prepared myself to make the cut, knowing that the immense weight would lift as my blood left my body. But the needle lifted from my hand and my body collapsed out of its sitting position. 

The lighting didn't change but I knew I had passed out.

When I opened my eyes again I opened them to the light. I was blinded by it. It screamed out at me from everywhere, beams and threads of golden sunlight as if reflecting off a golden blade. It looked like peace, like tranquility in the midst of a battlefield. My eyes watered and pained me but I didn't care.

It looked like peace until my eyes adjusted and I saw that this light was not, in fact, the last light, the one at the end of the tunnel.

It was fake light. Light that wasn't really there at all. Where there was? I don't know. All I know is I opened my eyes in a room filled with people.

"Great," I muttered to myself.

Wait.

I could talk? I could move my arms? I was alive if not living.

I tried sitting up but my head pounded like hell and every muscle screamed at me to stop. A groan escaped my lips and so I took in the room while laying down.

People stood on the edges of one half of the room. I lay on a metal table in the other half of the room. A piece of immaculately cleaned glass separated the two sides, providing me some "protection." 

The room was pure black and empty other than the table on which I rested. What was going on.

"Hey!" I screamed. Maybe these people could help me.

None of them moved, none of them spoke. I was still utterly alone.

Tears finally came, clouding my vision. It was a miracle that I hadn't cried up until that point and a huge disappointment that I chose this moment to let out my emotions.

After minutes of silence someone spoke.

"Shall we meet our prisoner?"

I shivered, they were going to kill me, I knew it.

A few people filed into the room and one of them walked to me immediately. Her hair was violently curly and the darkest shade of black I'd ever seen a person have. Her eyes were the same black color and her smile was cruel.

"Belatrix," I greeted. Her's was a face I knew well. Neville had told me all about her.

"Oh!" she gasped, amused. "The girly knows my name!"

A few of the men around us laughed.

"Care to tell us yours? We all know it of course but it seemed like good manners to allow you to tell us yourself."

I considered telling her my name was Angel but the thought of her calling me what Draco used to felt like a stab to the stomach.

"Evangeline," I muttered.

"What a pretty name that is!" she said in a high pitched, teasing voice. "You'll let me call you Eve though won't you? So much easier."

It was not a question. I did not have a choice.

I didn't have a choice.

I never had a choice.

I was always pegged as a target, always in danger. 

Rage boiled my blood but what could I do? I was powerless against these people.

But then I spotted Belatrix's wand neatly tucked into a fold of her black skirt and a plan formed in my mind. It was a horrible one, with so many flaws I couldn't count them all.

In no more than a second I'd convinced myself of this stupid plan and made the first move to start it.

Idiotic.

I lunged forward off of the table, ignoring every possible pain in my body, and grabbed Belatrix's wand. I managed that part easily. Then, with an empowered look on my face I spun around and yelled as loud as I possibly could.

"ADVADA KEDAVRA!"

Three of them, dead. Belatrix laughing maniacally at me from the same place she'd been standing in since her entry into the room. 

"You're a feisty little one aren't you," she said. "And now a murderer! I can see why the Dark Lord wants you on our side."

An image of Dumbledore speaking to Draco and me in his office at the start of term, before Draco and I had fallen into this dangerous game.

"Ms. Grey has a strong sense of... individualism, shall we say. Her mind works in curious ways and does not wish to choose one way of living or thinking. Therefore she moves from house to house. Lord Voldemort has followers. Countless followers but most of them come from your own house, Slytherin, therefore they all have the same values and thought processes. Ms. Grey, being from all the houses, somewhat contradicts what most wizards, Voldemort included, believe to be the structure of our society. She could either be a massive help to Lord Voldemort should she choose or she could aid the opposite side of this 'war' and help Mr. Potter. I suspect Lord Voldemort will be trying to make Ms. Grey join him and if she does not, I believe he would willingly kill her."

That's what he had said.

Fine, let him kill me. I wouldn't join them.

"I'd rather die than join you," I snarled.

"Have it your way," she laughed, and pressed one of her long fingernails to the tattoo on her arm, calling the Dark Lord to our place here.