The Dark Witch

P.O.V. – Becky Sinclair

Don’t do this! Hissed a voice in the back of my mind as I slowly stood up from the stone floor of my prison, It’s wrong! I had obviously upset the inconvenient moral side of me and I reminded myself of my monster’s, or Voldemort’s (as he had instructed me to call him) words, ‘You have played the part of the innocent victim for to long now’.

'It would be easy', he had said, and I walked straight through the darkness that my eyes had long grown accustomed to, towards the heavy steel door, the only exit from my prison. ‘No one will be expecting it’ . I moved my arms a little in my straight jacket, ‘everyone will pay for what they have done to you.’

I shut my eyes tightly, concentrating hard, thinking of flames, focusing my hatred, doing exactly what Voldemort had asked of me. 'You'll finally be free. Everything you could ever want will be yours'. My arms felt like they were on fire, so much pain, but he had promised me I could control it, withstand it. 'It will hurt at first...' I felt my eyes try to roll back in my head, but I fought the sensation and focused harder. I could feel my constraints begin to burn away...

“Becky don’t!” Yelled a male voice from behind me, my concentration broke, and both furious and weakened, I turned around to face the latest figment of my imagination. It was a young man in a leather jacket, his thick black hair falling into his gray eyes, emotion paining his exceptionally handsome face, “Becky don’t leave me too! Not like Maria…” He trailed off his eyes filling with so much pain… I had never seen anyone like this before, my heart broke and it took all my remaining strength not to run to my figment and comfort him. His gaze focused back on me again, he looked almost maniacal, “You…”His voice broke, “have a choice, Becky…you have the choice Maria never got. Don’t…don’t ruin it.”

I could fill myself shaking, my eyes welling up in tears, I don’t know why this figment made me feel like this, it was like I was in-love with him or something. I took a step forward, wanting to touch him, comfort him, more than anything else in the world, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I replied softly, watching my words cause him to fall apart even more, and me along with him. I didn’t know a person could feel this much, it was like he was dying, dying from sorrow and pain.

Bizarrely he chose that moment to smile, it warmed me, it was so comforting, so familiar…

“Of course, because you’re, Becky Sinclair.” He pronounced my name slowly and carefully, drawing out every last syllable, “Not Maria, but you still must,” He paused, I could tell this was hard for him, but there was nothing I could do, I felt so helpless, “Voldemort came to see you didn’t he? He promised you family, a life, love, everything you ever wanted right?”

I felt numb, how did he know? I nodded my head slowly.

“That’s how he operates, but he wanted something for it right?”

“He…” I stuttered, Voldemort’s voice ringing through my head, 'One day I will ask you for something. Something you might not want to give, but it will only be a small penance compared to your freedom...', “He just told me how I could break out of here, where I could go…” I broke off and looked down at my shoes, I suddenly felt ashamed, this figment was making me feel ashamed... I don't know what to make of that.

An electrifying feeling rushed through my face and I felt myself blush as my figment raised my head up to meet his gaze. How did he get so close? Our faces were barely an inch apart. He was examining me so intensely, memorizing me. I wanted to look away, to break the spell, but he wouldn’t let me.

When he finally said something his voice was much deeper, rougher, “He won’t give anything to you. He’ll show it to you, dangle it right in-front of your face, then ask you to do something else for it.” He smiled wryly, “Then, if you’re lucky, he’ll eventual give it to you, only so he can have something to threaten and hold over your head for the rest of your life. You’ll never be at peace, you’ll never be happy, and that’s all you really want isn’t it?” His gaze drifted to my lips for a moment, as if he was fighting the urge to kiss me, maybe he was, “Never dance to close to the fire, Becky, you will get burned.”

Our eyes locked for a moment, my heart was racing, I had never felt more alive, I felt…on fire. Then he kissed me with more passion than I thought one kiss could hold, and for the first time, I was at peace.

My eyes snapped open suddenly and I found myself on the stone floor, my straight jacket burnt completely away. I couldn't care less. I looked around wildly for my figment, but he was no where to be found. I felt a great emptiness fill me, I could feel all the air being sucked out of my lungs and tears began sting my eyes. He had felt so real. Subconsciously I raised my hand to brush my lips, I could still feel him on them. I groaned, “Sirius…”

A tremor rushed through me, what had I just said?