There are no sunrises anymore. Only darkness. Only death. Only power.

21.

     Bellatrix stared before her for a mere second, before looking down at her own stomach - which now had a knife on it's left side - and circling her own hands around the wound, trying to manage the control of the blood running to the ground from her. There were a lot of sounds of chairs being moved, and before she even realised it, the Death Eaters who had played the poker were now heading out of the room, not wanting to be responsible for taking the Dark Lord's first cadet's life. Bit Bellatrix had something else in her mind right now instead of her own life. By this time, the door was already closed and Narcissa, along with Severus and Lucius were at her side. She saw them speaking to her, but didn't hear anything. She saw them motioning her to sit on the chair they dragged next to her, and subconsciously obeyed. She saw them arguing and asking her questions, but only registered the fresh blood on her hands. She saw Severus lift up his left sleeve, and press the Dark Mark anxiously. She saw everything and wanted to say something, but couldn't find her voice.

    Bellatrix liked blood and didn't mind herself being covered by it, unless it was her own. And now, there was far too much blood and she knew it wasn't normal. The look on her sister's face confirmed it and the pool of her own blood on the floor and the carpet was growing and spreading every second. Bellatrix started to feel weak and dizzy, but somehow found her voice:
"Take the knife out."
The others didn't look convinced nor satisfied and only shaked their heads, thinking that the amount of bloodloss was messing her head.
"Take - it - out - of - me."
It was getting hard for her to talk, and when the others did nothing, she circled her bloody hand around the haft of the knife, but everyone moved to stop her:
"Stop, I don't think that's wise."
"Just wait for the Dark Lord and lets do what he says."
Bellatrix's hand loosened the grip, as she didn't have the strength to control it anymore and knew that in only a matter of time, she would lose consciousness. But somehow, she got the one word she wanted, out of her:
"Poison."
Narcissa and her husband didn't understand, and tried to tell her every reason to not to take the knife out, but Severus realised what she was trying to say, and roughly and quickly took a hold of her shoulder with his left hand to hold her back, and with his right, he readily removed the knife of her. Bellatrix gasped as she felt the sharp medal left her body, and then the next thing she knew, was that someone moved her down to the floor and pressed her wound to control the bleeding. She let out a breath and then there was nothing but black.

    Bellatrix slowly and difficultly opened her heavy-feeling eyelids. The room was too bright in her opinion and she had to narrow her eyes for a few seconds to see the room properly. It, after all, appeared to be her own room, and she saw all kinds of potions and healing supplies on her extended bedside table. Then Bellatrix noticed Voldemort, who was sitting on a chair in the corner of her room. He seemed to be on his thoughts, but soon he lifted his eyes from the floor and was surprised when he met her eyes.
"How do you feel?"
It wasn't until then that Bellatrix remembered what had happened. It was only then when Bellatrix felt a small pain on her stomach and looked down to see herself stitched up with a bandage ovee the wound. But before Bellatrix had time to ask anything, the Dark Lord started to fill her lack of information;
"You were lucky, Bella. The knife didn't hit anything important, except for a small artery, which caused the heavy bleeding. You, and my heir, will be back to normal in only a few weeks or so. But I'll make sure nothing like this happens again."
Voldemort left the room, the hems of his robes moving dangerously, and Bellatrix was alone with her thoughts. And when Bellatrix went over today in her mind, she realised that she had indeed been lucky. You don't just get stabbed with no consequences.

     After a few hours, Bellatrix had started feeling a little weird. It wasn't like before, it wasn't that she felt weak or was in pain, it was different. It was like she was drunk, but that she couldn't control herself at all. Her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier, and her arms and legs were losing their strength. Bellatrix, allthough she had plenty of blankets on top of her, was cold and almost shaking. Bellatrix numbly felt a warm hand of her sister's touch her forehead slightly and steps heading out of the room. But she didn't care - not that she could do anything at all- at the moment. Downstairs a few trusted Death Eaters were discussing a small plan with the Dark Lord, when Narcissa came into the room looking a little upset, and said with a shaking and unsure voice;
"It's Bellatrix - She has fever... A lot of it."

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