Make Me.

Book 4 - Chapter 11

Eyes of jet black, Ellie strode off into the garden, fists clenched at her sides, bruised fingers inside of them. As her hot skin hit the cool night summer air, it was almost as if steam started to rise off her body in a vapor cloud. Ellie stood so violently rage-full that her body was still; her mind was still; there was nothing fighting to get out of her, nothing shaking, nothing speaking, she just was - she was violence, anger, rage, destruction - all bundled up in a hundred pound sack of broken bones and curly hair.

Nobody inside the house followed her out.

Ellie took a few deep breaths. With every breath she took in the grass around her shook ferociously.

She felt infuriated that so many of the people who were supposed to be on her side were talking behind her back. She felt disgusted at the fact that people thought her to be nothing more than a wrathful force; she wasn't a person - she was a thing that could fight and bite. She felt misunderstood. Nobody could fathom being in her spot, and they still had something to say about it. But maybe most of all, Ellie felt alone. Everyone was telling her she had to be Ellespeth Dracula, all while telling her to be Ellie, who asks for help and shouldn't take anything alone. But, she was Ellespeth and she was going to have to face everything alone.

Ellie could promise others her presence, but they could never do that same. It'd kill them if they did.

Ellie felt a layer of fuzz peel off her brain and her knees hit the ground as an agonizing moan escaped from her mouth. Her hands were in the grass and a few of the rocks and pebbles that were under her cracked into dust as she hit the ground. Ellie's chest puffed in and out as she tried catching her breath through her cries of anguish.

She had just shouted at everyone she loved most in her life for being worried about her, and she felt no better than she did before. She felt worse. Everything felt more real, knowing that someone other than herself had acknowledged the inevitable. Ellie had no choice, in anything. Her body told her to yell and scream and storm out. Which she did. and now, now her mind was telling her off for it. It was relentless.

Ellie cried another moaning sob into her chest, trying to silence herself with her shirt. Her forehead was practically on the ground. It was no use, she needed to be loud, and another noisy sob brought a few of the Burrow's windows flinging open from the outside.

Snape was wrong. He lied. Ellie could see it now. It was so clear. As clear as the pitiful sounds escaping her throat in the silent night air. Snape and Dumbledore and her father -they weren't giving her control of her power over her choices. They were shaping her, carving her, in exactly the shape they needed her to be.

It was never supposed to be Harry Potter. It was supposed to be Ellespeth Dracula. Because, Ellespeth Dracula can take hit, after hit, after hit, and get up, and cross the battlefield like the fighter that she was being molded to be. Harry Potter was the poster boy, the soul of the campaign, and Ellie was solider on the front line. That's what everyone wanted. And, that's what they've gotten.

Worst of everything, Ellie couldn't deny it. She was going to take the pain from everyone else, because she could. Because she would be a horrible, greedy, monster if she didn't. Because she was Ellespeth Dracula: a monster.

"Why's it always us? Why is it always me?"

Ellie's thoughts repeated through her head. Ellie pulled her hands out of the grass and sank down on her legs, sitting on them, back straight again, neck pointed up at the clear night sky. Her hands were limp by her sides.

"Is this what what you wanted?" she whimpered into the sky. Her body was numb. "Is this what you wanted for me? Why couldn't you have just said yes?"

Ellie's eyelashes slammed against her cheeks as her eyes closed. A flash of blindingly bright light crackled though the sky that she didn't see through her eyelids.