she isn't what she says

Chapter 19: Alone

'She wasn't really evil she just wanted to be understood.' - Unknown

Mentions of suicide. If this makes you feel uncomfortable, please don't read. You just need to know that Valencia is slowly feeling pinned down by the pressure of being a Death Eater and her family. She feels more alone every day. 

Down below people were clipping by going nowhere fast. Valencia could feel the long despairing history of the place. Valencia could actually hear it, a low hum like the buzz of a sick bee that resonated with the fragments of a million broken dreams. Everything was eternally dreary, dismal, damned. Even the weather was insolent and bitchy.

Valencia stood, her hands in her pockets, in front of an abandoned playground. She didn't want to go out on such a night, but with her thoughts running wild, she needed to get some fresh air. She fished in his pockets, hands searching for the cigarette box, the urge to smoke rising as the darkness fell around her. But, of course, she had forgotten them at home.

Letting out a sigh, Valencia leaned back against the fence blocking off the playground. Her ashen eyes stared at the ground, as if she was waiting for some kind of hole to open up and drag her down into the pits of hell. That wouldn't happen, of course. 

Valencia glanced up at the sky, dark clouds hiding the stars and the moon from sight. It would probably rain soon, given the season and the humidity in the air. She didn't care, though. Let the rain fall on her. She'd probably just catch a cold. Maybe, if she was lucky enough, it'd take her life. Valencia let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as she looked back down at the ground. That'd be too convenient for her.

She needed to be alone, go somewhere no one else was. A getaway from the pressure. She had another mission to complete soon, but her fear was slowly pinning her down by her throat. She felt like screaming. This is the side of her that she didn't let anyone see, except for Theo. She loved him. He was the only one she could really trust, a safe haven.

She's tried before, to end all the pain built up inside of her. But whatever superior being that reigned over life and death seemed to have a grudge against her. All attempts would fail. 

Whenever she tried to cut herself, someone, either Narcissa or Draco would rush in and see what she was doing before she got the chance. Either that or the handle would somehow break in her hands right before she was able to press the blade against her skin. 

Valencia cursed whoever it was - Death, God, or something else entirely - that kept her from the sweet release of death. She just wanted it all to end. That's all she ever asked for, all she ever wished for. But fate seemed to have something else in store for her. She didn't know what it was, but she didn't want any part of it. All she wanted was to die, but she couldn't even have that. What was the point of in living in constant misery? She couldn't find one.

It was late in the afternoon, nearly dark. The sun was about to set and Valencia was still very much alive. Lights on the streets and buildings, busy cars passing by. Valencia sat on a swing in an abandoned playground, watching. The city would be more beautiful at night.

And there she found herself again, swinging, back and forth, the soft breeze caressing her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. Like a mother to her daughter. She closed her eyes, taking in a breath and feeling the welcoming touch. Finally, the numb feeling came, her face ached, stomach sore, arms bruised and legs battered, but it didn't matter- nothing did. She was alone and safe. She smiled a bit at her lap, a crooked and wry thing it was, but a smile nonetheless.

Her eyes still stung from the tears, the slight burn nothing but a minor irritation from her otherwise perfect peace.

Then there was rustling.

The wind was blowing, the grass was dancing along with it, and she knew the playground was unknown of to other people. No one would be here, but she looked up anyway. And she was not alone.

"Oh, sorry, I don't mean to frighten you," the male quietly apologised, his voice soft and sweet. 

"I'm surprised." The boy spoke, a familiar voice. Valencia looked up to see her cousin, Draco looking down at her.

"Surprised?" Valencia asked.

"You actually came to the old playground."

"Why wouldn't I?" She paused for a second. Hesitating on her next words. "This was my favourite spot as a child."

"Are you going to take a seat on the swing or just stand there?" Valencia broke the silence. Well, Draco was just found standing there with his umbrella.

"Hmph." He looked away from her as he walked towards the vacant swing beside Valencia. Taking a seat as he closed his umbrella. "Why so moody?"

"It's just that this playground we used to go to as kids is now abandoned. I'm surprised it hasn't been turned into a building." Valencia stopped the swing from moving any further. "You haven't forgotten how much this playground meant to us, have you?" Of course he hasn't. How could he? She didn't need to remind him twice about this place. This playground. "No. You know how much this playground means to me. Us, rather." Valencia could only smile at his words. She always knew the man had a way with his words. Valencia could only stare at the young man beside her. She wonders: how long has it been?

"Are you okay?" His voice was gentle and sweet, such a warm and inviting tone, one that she was not used to. A curiosity as strong as the one in his gaze. "Never better." Valencia replied, hoping another tear wouldn't fall out of her eye and down her cheek. Luckily for her, no more did. "Great! Let's go back home, where it's warm." Draco said quickly, oblivious of Valencia's fear and sadness. She liked it that way. Sadness was weakness in the eyes of a Lestrange and especially a Death Eater.

After this night, Valencia would bear his Mark. After this night, everyone would be able to see she belonged to his inner circle. After this night, there would be no going back. But who wanted to go back when they could have it all? Valencia had worked relentlessly for the Dark Lord's cause, she had lied and cheated, bullied and threatened, maimed and tortured to do his bidding. sixteen years old, she had already killed in his name. She had practised the curse numerous times on animals and the occasional house-elf, and every time the two words had burst from her lips, she had meant them. 

Valencia could kill an animal without hesitation; killing a Muggle wouldn't be any different. Muggles were vermin, less than human, and getting rid of one would be no more than stepping on a bug and listening to the satisfying crunch under her shoe. Valencia was ready for it. She had already killed five when she was ten anyway.