Stranger

Blankness had corrupted her mind. Uncertainty flooding in her. Even fear had clouded its way into her brain in every breathing moment she had.

Sleep was something she was scared to do. She was afraid of her dreams, fragile to the touch. Her eyes would darken with the shadows of the recent past, red from the lack of slumber. Hibernation was a thing she refrained from, despite the fact she needed it. The time was spent hiding in a locked bedroom. Her way of keeping away was leaving her lips sealed.

Not a single word would escape her mouth. Her pink lips grew dried and chapped, and at moments she barely wanted to eat, even with the lack of food in her system. She didn't understand what was going on with herself, and neither did her younger brother. Her aunt, uncle, and cousin could care less, as if they ever did.

Maybe it was a new trauma from recent happenings. The loss of someone she cared for deeply and even fancied. The return of a murderer, or maybe just the fact her last year of school was soon approaching.

Nobody could tell what was wrong with her - she didn't even know herself.

Her visions were now living nightmares. They would return to her and show her the horrid things happening, and would torture her with flashbacks. How she wished dearly every single day she could take a moment to scream and find help. The visions were never an issue, and now they were tormenting her.

Mad wasn't the correct term for her. Consideration had been put into it and was safe to say she was in some sort of depression. A weak and vulnerable phase had commenced in her, one that had never been there before, and had recently sprung out.

Why would her own mind, body, and soul turn on her and drive her to this point?

Everyday as she hugged her knees and stared out the window into the pitch black sky, she asked herself that question. She thought deeply, descending further into her conscience and recollection. It was hard to not appear brooding as she contemplated every aspect of her current life. It was difficult, and her strength was abandoning her.

It was hard to imagine someone so brave, independent, and courageous suddenly have a downfall. She was unsure of what happened to her, and how she dearly wished to return to her old self. She needed to reassure she could handle all of the insane surprises life was tossing her way.

Her cold, icy fingertips would trace her mark, the newly formed binding to the dark killer. Her eyes wouldn't dare shut as she did, knowing she would see the graveyard and doors again. They'd been there multiple times to unpleasantly welcome her to her Hell-like dreams. She would see the murderer again. Her family, the boy. The green jet of light.

Hissing sounds...darkness... reaching to absolute nothing.

Rosalie Potter was lost, and desperate to be found.