Post by Kara Viridian on Apr 23, 2012 15:54:54 GMT -8
24 November, 2011
1057pm
Cold.
It was so cold this time of year, and Kara half expected to be freezing down to her bones, but for the twenty-fifth night in a row, she was comfortable. Although the room was not fit for royalty, no, she was not freezing as one would normally be in a cell. It was twenty-four nights ago that she woke up, and only twenty nights ago did she realize where she was. Azkaban. It had been so long since she'd set foot in the prison. Last she was here, she was rescued by her father, saved from the torture done to her by some of her former colleagues, and even her father himself. Aye, she had seen worse times within these walls, but this time was different.
She could hear the howling wind blowing outside. The winter storms were coming. The outside was her only companion. No one had visited her. No one. There was actually no one left, if her memory served. No one. The only person who came to visit her was once a day, at random times, delivering a small tray of portioned food she grew slowly to trust but had to devour it in time, as not to grow hungry until the next visit. Her eyes were so swollen, so red, so sore from the endless crying that there was nothing left to cry. She coughed, her throat feeling like she had swallowed daggers at her last meal. Still, no comfort was found around her, no arms to warm the ice she felt flowing through her veins. She didn't know who she was anymore, she didn't know why she was here. Who wanted her here? Who was keeping her from the world? What of Liam?
A horrendous guilt filled her. Liam.
In her relentless dreams, she could see his face, bloodied, battered, his body broken and lifeless. Her own husband, dead. She couldn't scream anymore, since her voice was mostly shot for the two weeks of wailing and crying at this desolate prison. But inside she was mourning, confused at these visions of death brought to her. She couldn't tell if they were real or if they were implanted by some sort of spell. Merlin, did she pray that her husband's death was a figment of her imagination.
She looked down at her hands, bruised, scraped, fingernails filled with filth, worn down to her fingers as she had tried to claw her way out of the stone room. There was nothing here, except her, a makeshift pillow she had fashioned out of her worn clothes, a toilet, and her empty pan of today's food. She hated herself for growing accustomed to life like this, as she was unaware of its purpose. Kara wanted to be home, with her husband, fighting evil off, fighting naysayers off, living life as she had been, not plagued with these horrible dreams and locked away like a forgotten animal.
Then, as she almost succumbed to the pain and was about to lash out again at these empty walls, Kara felt a presence nearing. Footsteps in the distance, barely heard to the untrained ears as the howling winds grew louder.
"Hello? Is anyone out there?" She whispered, her voice hoarse. "Help me!"
1057pm
Cold.
It was so cold this time of year, and Kara half expected to be freezing down to her bones, but for the twenty-fifth night in a row, she was comfortable. Although the room was not fit for royalty, no, she was not freezing as one would normally be in a cell. It was twenty-four nights ago that she woke up, and only twenty nights ago did she realize where she was. Azkaban. It had been so long since she'd set foot in the prison. Last she was here, she was rescued by her father, saved from the torture done to her by some of her former colleagues, and even her father himself. Aye, she had seen worse times within these walls, but this time was different.
She could hear the howling wind blowing outside. The winter storms were coming. The outside was her only companion. No one had visited her. No one. There was actually no one left, if her memory served. No one. The only person who came to visit her was once a day, at random times, delivering a small tray of portioned food she grew slowly to trust but had to devour it in time, as not to grow hungry until the next visit. Her eyes were so swollen, so red, so sore from the endless crying that there was nothing left to cry. She coughed, her throat feeling like she had swallowed daggers at her last meal. Still, no comfort was found around her, no arms to warm the ice she felt flowing through her veins. She didn't know who she was anymore, she didn't know why she was here. Who wanted her here? Who was keeping her from the world? What of Liam?
A horrendous guilt filled her. Liam.
In her relentless dreams, she could see his face, bloodied, battered, his body broken and lifeless. Her own husband, dead. She couldn't scream anymore, since her voice was mostly shot for the two weeks of wailing and crying at this desolate prison. But inside she was mourning, confused at these visions of death brought to her. She couldn't tell if they were real or if they were implanted by some sort of spell. Merlin, did she pray that her husband's death was a figment of her imagination.
She looked down at her hands, bruised, scraped, fingernails filled with filth, worn down to her fingers as she had tried to claw her way out of the stone room. There was nothing here, except her, a makeshift pillow she had fashioned out of her worn clothes, a toilet, and her empty pan of today's food. She hated herself for growing accustomed to life like this, as she was unaware of its purpose. Kara wanted to be home, with her husband, fighting evil off, fighting naysayers off, living life as she had been, not plagued with these horrible dreams and locked away like a forgotten animal.
Then, as she almost succumbed to the pain and was about to lash out again at these empty walls, Kara felt a presence nearing. Footsteps in the distance, barely heard to the untrained ears as the howling winds grew louder.
"Hello? Is anyone out there?" She whispered, her voice hoarse. "Help me!"