𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 || 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒 || 𝐒𝟑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒

FLASHBACK

An 8-year-old who the world knew as The Nightmare's heartbeat was normal. Not what you would expect from the events that had just played out. She continued to march down the corridor to Reginald's office. She thanked satan that nobody was there to see what happened a mere two minutes ago. There was a lunatic thread in her stare, and instability the person recognized promptly, their skin crawled with apprehension, a common reaction for the body in treacherous situations.

Bellatrix was good. She knew what to say, she knew how to use her own strength to get anyone to squirm. 

She grabbed the ends of the sleeves of her blazer gripping at them. She tried to pull the uniform more over her body so it could cover the blood-splattered school shirt that was underneath. Maybe she could change, maybe there was a chance for her to not succumb to her dark desire. Her aura was of most certainty tainted with dark origins and great peril, Reginald saw this as early as the day she was born, the mother dead on the floor as the rest of the people in the amusement park were all dead, blood running from their noses, mouths, ears.

Bellatrix had always seen herself as some sort of strong individual, not letting her siblings or enemies break her soul. Although her morality was enigmatic, the girl knew that she could never be good, be normal. No, she was deranged, selfish, and most of all evil.

Reginald looked up from his papers as he heard the door harshly open and the girl he knew most people feared to walk inside of his office. The people who didn't fear her were imbeciles in his opinion. He noticed the slight fight in her eyes, he also noticed the deep fire that burnt and burnt and would never extinguish. Reginald stood at his desk and invited her to take a seat across from him. He set the papers he had been reading aside, then placed his pen in his draw. Bellatrix couldn't help but think his obsessive-compulsive personality disorder was getting larger as he grew older. 

Reginald's office was of great size, the fire giving it a warmer glow from the dark, ill-lit and gloomy interior. The shelves were filled to the rim with books, as they stood in alphabetical order, their leather bounds facing the outside. One painting hung above the fireplace, a large white buffalo.

"#8, how is training going?" he asked her, as she maladroitly sat. With his intense stare, she felt that he somehow knew of the great sin that she had just committed. 

"Rather good father, I have begun to succeed in controlling my powers." She said as she fiddled with her fingers, her palms sweaty as her breath was quick and staggered.

"Have you succeeded in controlling any?" Reginald asked, worried. How it had slipped his mind that she would have to learn to control her powers, he did not know.

"I have started to master teleportation, mind control, and telekinesis," she admitted. However, her skills were improving but her body was getting more and more tired.

"What about that book on magic I gave you?"

"Excellent. Thank you." She acknowledged it was true, those magic books had helped her immensely as her mind wandered back to that spell, the spell to revive the dead.

All of a sudden Marcus had burst through the room, tears running down his face as he panted, his hands were placed on his knees as he shakily looked up.

"What is the meaning of this!" Reginald boomed as Marcus and Bellatrix's eyes locked, the boy's eyes went wider than the two others had ever seen before as his hands began to shake. Reginald taking notice of his sudden actions, turned his head and prolonged towards the girl who now had a sinister smile on her face, her head tilted to the side and you could practically watch the past events from those darkened violet orbs.