Emerald Flames |Regulus Black|

Buried Thoughts

Sorry it took so long, but life delayed my writing.

I don't actually feel 100% about the direction this chapter went, but if I tried to fix it anymore I think I might go crazy and never move on.

Also this chapter is mostly inspired by a song called Car Radio by Twenty One Pilots which was actually the thing that motivated me to finish this, so check that out. I think it really embodies Regulus's life. ^^

.ooOOOoo.

"Thank-you again! Don't worry, I'll come back in a little bit, cousin Reggie!" Nymphadora flashed a bright grin.

The wizard's heart tightened a bit.

A moment of silence was permanent in the air after the young girl had took quick, but conscious steps out the door with her new possession rooming on her hands. Along with the black feline with its nose sticking in the air that screams of arrogance (which Regulus knew all too well, so he knew the signs) which followed close behind.

Regulus blinked.

He didn't know what had possessed him to elaborate his thoughts on magic. Much less spoke about his personal research on the topic. Then it had dawned on the wizard that how mundane that conversation was. He felt almost normal and relaxed for the first time.

For years, Regulus had a looming cloud over his shoulders, and every year it had gotten thicker to the point that it had been constantly difficult to breathe at times.

During that time, Regulus had buried himself with mountains of books whenever he get the chance to. It was his escape from reality. Books could give him knowledge of subjects he wouldn't have known through without experience. They could simulate lessons or stories with chosen words for that exact reason. They are teachers in the form of scriptures. Each page could hold a new secret that he couldn't have ever dream of. Every book is unique and written in a way to teach him something.

Books don't constantly bother him. They don't expect anything from him. They don't cause him to tear his hair out. The don't cause him to break down almost every single night. They don't leave him behind–

Reality was in complete contrast of the world of text. Regulus knew that life had been backed him into a corner after a series of 'choices' he had to make. There never were choices for him. At times, he was a puppet for the puppeteer.

Plural, puppeteers.

Many strings that are attached to him and control him. Every movement didn't feel like his own. Multiple pulls and yank so he would dance around on each command. It was a cycle.

Over.

And over.

And over.

And over.

A absolute deteriorating life, a downward spiral. Regulus hadn't care anymore. He had just wanted everything to stop. Just stop.

Well, the world does not work that way.

Regulus had never intended to go as far as to torture and kill for 'the cause'. Regardless, he had realized his mistake in joining the Death Eaters and it was too late to back out.

Since he didn't care about how he lived anymore, he simply took it upon himself to get in deeper than ever before. He had rose ranks faster than any other person. Though, Regulus could never, never be proud of the choices that soon came after.

Although, being numb about his surroundings led him to be able to listen to everything without emotional judgment. Pieces of information that would be overlooked, Regulus had grasped it. Figuring out what he had made brought everything into perspective. As if Regulus had finally reached the end of long pitch black tunnel and saw evil of the world for the first time. How tainted and warped everything was.