━ 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐥;
Anastasia Lupin-Black was never aware of her ulterior self. You see, she's adopted just like her other two siblings. Anastasia Lupin-Black was just a cover-up for who she truly was. For who was hidden beneath all the lies and enchant...
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
. . .
So this is what emptiness feels like.
An endless black pit full of nothing. Merely nothing.
Anastasia's knees dug into the cold, wet sand. It seeped through her pants and dampened the material so it clung to her clammy skin. Victoria was cradled in her arms as she wept continuously and Anastasia didn't know if it would end.
Tears pricked her eyes and they fell down her hollow cheeks but her face remained emotionless. Everyone mourned in their own way. Anastasia just decided to do it later, in private, when to shock wore off. But right now, Victoria needed her big sister and she understood that to its full extent.
She watched Ron and Hermione cling on to each other not too far in front of her. And she watched as Harry made sure that Dobby and the others were okay. They were, thank god.
Luna had knelt beside Anastasia who had her arms wrapped around Victoria. She placed a frail hand on her shoulder as her wispy blond hair whipped with the wind.
"I can take her inside," Luna whispered gently. "You don't have to do this alone, anymore. I'm here," She then gestured to Ron, Harry, and Hermione. "And they've always been there."
Anastasia didn't answer Luna. She just looked at her and as if Luna could read her mind, she gently unwrapped Victoria's arms from around her sister and helped her to her feet.
"But -- Stas --" Victoria choked out between sniffles.
"I'm fine, V. Go get warm." Anastasia mustered up a sad smile as she watched her little sister. Her bright eyes that once were filled with childish warmth were replaced with the hardships and brokenness of losing someone she loved so dearly.
Luna lovingly wrapped an arm around her girlfriend. "Come on, love."
Anastasia stared at her shaky hands which were covered in dirt, sand, and blood. Blood. Isabella's blood was embedded underneath her fingernails. She wanted to chop off her hands, starting at the wrist.
She felt nausea creep up her throat as well as a rough sob that escaped her lips. She had killed someone with her hands. Her bare hands.
She was a murderer.
She wasn't any better than her aunt or her grandmother.
Harry approached her and knelt down to her. "Hey, what's -- ?" She jerked back when his hand touched her face and she had no doubt that there were spots of blood on it. His face contorted into a confused expression and his eyes flickered to her hands.
Anastasia got to her feet and Harry mirrored her actions. "Don't touch me," She breathed shakily and Harry wanted to hug her more than anything but he stayed rooted in his place a few inches away from her.
