Revolution- Marauder's Era RPG

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Dec 15, 2009, 8:40am

It is the year 1978, and the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry step out into a world darkened by the war. The lines that once formed the barriers between the houses are falling, to be replaced with ones of their own creation; Death Eaters, the loyal servant of the Dark Lord Voldemort; the Order of the Phoenix, dedicated to bringing down the evil by any means possible; and those who struggle to remain Neutral, forever caught between the two extremes. Trust is an illusion, when you can never truly know who is your ally, and who is only waiting for the perfect moment to stab you in the back.

With less then a year until the Last Night, which side will you choose?

~December, 1978~

Hestia Elizabeth Rose Jones
19 years ~~~ December 9th

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Revolution- Marauder's Era RPG :: Out of Character :: Fan Fiction :: Claustrophobia

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Topic: Claustrophobia (Read 20 times)

Angelica Rosier
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Maybe that's the way I should go, Straight into the mouth of the unknown.

Joined: Jun 2008
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Claustrophobia
« Thread Started on Jun 17, 2009, 6:27pm »

This piece contains content that some readers may find disturbing. Please, consider this before reading.

There was no warning- no sounding of the wards, nothing at all. By the time Angelica realized that they were there, it was already too late for her to do anything about it. She had seen the shadows of their black cloaks as silhouettes through the glass before they slipped silently in the through the door. Eight of them? Ten? Their faces hidden behind the all concealing masks of their allegiance- faceless, nameless, without identity to reveal who the men were that were charged with the mission of stripping her freedom.

Three of them fell before they could enter the house, blood pooling from under their robes as they lay in a pile in the entry. But the others stepped over the bodies of their fallen brothers, like animals that care nothing for death- and only for the prize that awaits them at the end of the kill. They were hyenas- worthless, the lowest scum of humanity, serving a Lord they could never predict, and would only learn to hate in time. In time when it was too late to escape.

Her wand was knocked from her hand, a bone shattering spell connecting directly with her wrist. But a hiss of pain was all the reward they got for their efforts- but by then it was too late for her. Disarmed, injured, she fought them off as well as she could- but the piercing ringing in her ears was like a herald that her time was running out. Working her way through the crowded room to the door, escape within sight, as the cool breeze touched her skin. But she would never make it through, a physical blow to the back of her skull with a sickening crack. Angelica had just enough time to feel her world explode in a shower of brilliant red stars, before it all dissolved into silence and blackness.

Her first conscious thoughts were of the smell of decay- wet and putrid, mold and copper- her own blood plastering her black hair to the side of her face. The awareness of pain, of sharp iron manacles that bound her numb hands far over her head. Her shoulders twisted at unnatural angles to support the dangling weight of her body, but she could no longer feel it. Slimy, frozen stones brushed teasingly against her toes- too far by only inches. The wall pressed against her bare back as she flinched away from it; the tacky feeling of her own drying blood still smeared over it. There was no light here, just the endless flickering of torchlight from the crack underneath the heavy iron door.

The cell wasn’t more then a few feet wide- large enough to hold a suspended human, and no more. A claustrophobic tomb, an oubliette recessed into a wall. The thought made her gag, hot bile rising foul and sour in the back of her throat as she tried to gasp for air. The jerking movement caused the shackles to rasp against her raw skin, fresh blood beginning to slowly drip down the inside of her wrists.

How long she hung there, she didn’t know- only that eventually time ceased to have meaning. Idly poking at the ragged, empty socket left by a missing back tooth that had apparently been broken out of her mouth in the fight. A detached sort of comprehension that she was going to die here- no matter what she did. And still nobody came. Her parched throat prickling as though she had swallowed shards of broken glass, lips chapped with dryness that she had no saliva to moisten. Slowly the numbness spread, following it’s progression with a still rational part of her mind. Through her shoulders, lessening the conscious awareness of their dislocated position. Wondering if it would stop her heart when it reached her chest.

And still nobody came.

No footsteps outside the door heralded other humanity- and Angelica was forced to accept at her leisure that she was very possibly alone here. Left behind to die of exposure, or succumbing to her injuries. Unable to look down to verify that the toes of only one foot moved- the lack of sensation in the other tricking her mind into believing that it wasn’t there at all. But what did she needs legs for? The dead did not walk. In the silence, she could pick out the faint scurrying of rats in the absolute blackness; twitching her foot spastically when she felt their sharp teeth biting into her flesh. Mistaking her for dead already, perhaps. Her mind shied away in horror at what must be happening to the leg she couldn’t feel.

The exhaustion was almost a relief, her weighted eyelids falling closed, and changing nothing of what she saw. Unable to slump forward in her bonds, simply hanging motionless from the chains- only barely aware of the slow but steady seeping of blood from her wrists. The faint dripping as it fell onto her hair, following it’s path as gravity carried it over her face, the shallow curve of her eyelid, and the jutting sharpness of her hollowed cheek. The tip of her tongue darted out to catch the salt and copper droplet, a half a seconds reprieve from the endless thirst, before- mercifully- with a sigh, the world ended.

”Evan?” She stared up at the glowing rectangle of light at the top of the stairs. He wouldn’t leave her here, would he? Laying broken in the darkness, alone? He was angry, yes- but he couldn’t.. He was still her brother… He hadn’t known she was standing in front of the stairs… “EVAN?!”

The hallucination cast her back into her waking Hell with a parched scream dying on her lips. It was colder then it had been, she was almost sure of it. Even the fitful light from under the door seeming to have gone out. In the unrelieved blackness, spots swam brightly in her vision- the images she had seen burned deep into her eyes. There was a tugging sensation in her hip that she didn’t want to think about- her numbed and useless leg being pulled by something she couldn’t see. Her mind conjured up images of her bare foot being mangled and chewed by the wickedly sharp teeth of rats, tearing and pulling strips of flesh from the senseless appendage.

”Wake up, baby sister…” The familiar voice echoed in her ears, thin and quiet. Angelica struggled to lift her head, to force sound from her lips. But all she could manage was a choked rasp, her chest convulsing with the effort of drawing in enough breath to live- much less to speak. ”You’ll be fine…”
But how could she be fine? She wanted to cry, but locked deeply in a mode to survive, her body had no moisture to spare for tears- no air for shattered sobs. Each sound of her brother’s voice drawing further away, carrying with it any trace of hope. Shuddering helplessly and bitterly alone in the hideous blackness of the tiny room that would be her grave. ”Help..” She managed to croak, before the blackness descended around her once more.

The mask slipped from his face, as he swung the heavy baton and the back of her head. His handsome face twisted in a demonic snarl of bloodthirsty glee. Her own body slumping lifeless to the floor as Rodolphus laughed, blood flowing freely from her broken and unconscious shape. The raucous snickering of the other Death Eaters, their shoulders shaking with mirth- pride in a job well done.

Walking footsteps in the corridor outside, coming closer to her oubliette…

Her blind eyes saw nothing in the blackness, her stomach feeling as though she had swallowed handfuls of pins and needles- piercing through her tender organs to stick their pointed ends through her skin. Skewered alive, as the footsteps drew closer still- they must be just outside the door. ”No.. She managed to rasp painfully, her bare thighs rubbing against the cold, sticky wall behind her as she tried to flinch away from the door.

But just as her brother’s voice had, the steps seemed to vanish suddenly. Angelica’s head fell limply forward, her lungs compressed by the angle at which she hung, slowly suffocating her supply of precious air. The room seemed to lurch and sway around her in a sickening display, the sour bile spilling over the edges of her mouth as she tried to squeeze her dry and gritty eyes closed- it didn’t help. Scalding the inside of her raw throat as it dripped to the filthy stones below, adding to the slime that already seemed to coat her toes. Leaving an aching, empty hollowness deep in the pit of her stomach.

Her body quivered uncontrollably in the freezing air, goosebumps covering her skin. So cold.. So very cold. Why wasn’t anyone coming to save her? Why? When her body was nothing more then a skeletal pile of bones on the floor, would anyone remember her? Maybe they had forgotten already- caring not that she was slowly suffocating to death in this claustrophobic room.

”A good girl would never find herself in this mess, Angelica- so what does that make you?” Her father’s voice outside the door- mocking and derisive laughter. But her father was dead…Wasn’t he?

Angelica looked up at the darkness where the door should be, fighting away the fog of hallucination. ”Perhaps you are already dead.” Yes… That must be it. She could no longer feel her toes against the stones, she must have already died. A decaying corpse, forgotten in the darkness. Unhallowed ground with which to let her body lay, a fitting tomb for someone with as many sins on her soul as she must surely have. For only someone truly hated, truly beyond saving, could deserve this fate in the Afterlife.

If only she could remember what horrors she had committed to earn it.

Warm hands wrapped around her wrists, freeing her from the shackles that bound her. It was a hallucination, another torment to haunt her final moments- if she wasn’t dead.. Which she was.. The feel of a soft cloak wrapping around her frozen and naked body, limp and cradled in the strong arms of someone that loved her. Angelica opened her eyes to stare into the blackness- the silence of being truly alone here. A trick of her mind- a sweet vision to carry her through. A final Karmic kindness? Perhaps she hadn’t been so beyond saving after all?

”Shh, I’ve got you- you’re alright now..” Rod’s voice? Evan’s? It was so impossible to tell, it sounded so far away.
”Don’t leave me.” She whispered, unable to turn her shattered frame into the warmth she so desperately craved. Not to spend her last moments so chilled, so plastered with her own blood and gore. Even if it was nothing more then the phantom comfort of a hallucination, clinging to the lie. ”Don’t let me die alone. Please.” Her chapped lips pleaded silently, moving soundlessly around the words she could no longer voice. The weak and uneven beat of her own heart in her ears, the only things she could hear anymore. ”Forgive me.”

How could she had ever imagined that it was Rod that had cast that blow? He could never have. Clawing out at the darkness with twisted and broken fingers- brushing against skin and warmth she couldn’t feel. Was she still hanging on the wall? Waiting to wake- waiting to die? Endless waiting through this, the Eternity of her afterlife? Mutely her lips tried to move around her plea, begging this hallucination to tell them that she had loved them. Her pulse failing and faltering as hr strength failed, her head falling back.

Distantly she could feel her arms and legs jerking spastically, but Angelica was no longer a part of that pain. Each breath seeming shallow and reedy, coarse against the inside of her throat. And then that to ended. Her mind screaming for a moment in sheer terror as it struggled in vain for oxygen that it could no longer use. The acidity in her blood rising- scorching heat she was only dimly aware of as a mild warmth. The phantom hands smoothed her hair from her face, their strength compromised by a panicked tremor.

Shh, don’t be scared... Thank you. She wanted to tell them, but it was too late.

« Last Edit: Jun 17, 2009, 6:27pm by Angelica Rosier »

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