Nightmares

There was a sound, almost akin to glass shattering. The floor opened beneath her and she fell, screaming, into the abyss, begging for someone, anyone to save her, to not leave her alone.

With a gasp, she awoke, drenched in a cold sweat.

Nightmares...always nightmares. She couldn't recall when it had started, when she had found herself dreaming of that night. She pulled herself out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. Rubbing some cold, calming water on her face, she stared into the mirror.

A girl around the age of 13 stared back at her. Piercing violet eyes, surrounded by dark shadows that spoke of a haunted past. Her hair, thick and untidy, stuck out in every direction. The tuft of orange around the auburn was almost a beacon in the darkness. The girl stared at her, her eyes filled with the detached loneliness that came as a package with the house.

The house, she reminded herself, because it was certainly no home of hers. In the bright memories of a distant past, perhaps, she might have once called this place home, but the large, imposing structure was almost alien to her now. At three floors and filled with empty rooms, she could scarcely convince herself that this place had once been alive with the sounds of joy, of a once happy childhood.

The girl in the mirror didn't smile. She stared with an almost lifeless expression. The shadows of the cold bathroom twisted around her, swallowing her up. Even on the warmest of summer days, she felt a chill here. A feeling that she could never shake, that she was never truly safe here. It came and went, like a dreary spring day where the rain would beat down randomly, but she still found herself looking over her shoulder from time to time.

She rubbed her eyes and left the bathroom to see the first light of the day creeping across the bedroom floor. She dressed quickly, unwilling to spend more time than necessary in the room that was home to her deepest fears.

The mansion was a sterile, silent place. The fixtures that had once adorned so many of the halls and rooms had either fallen apart without maintenance or simply had been taken. She drifted down the hallway, a feeling of detachment permeating her being. The first door, she ignored. It led to the dining room, and going through, she would find herself in the kitchen. It was the fastest route, but whenever she thought about that door, a sense of foreboding filled her, a feeling of complete and utter terror that she could not shake.

So she ignored the door, and continued further down the hallway, following the twisting corridor around until she reached the other door, that led directly into the kitchen. It wasn't a matter of fear, she repeated to herself. She simply preferred the longer route.

After her hunger had been sated, she headed to the library. The mansion was a cold and silent place, and if she didn't keep herself occupied, she would find unwelcome ideas creeping into her mind. The faint echo of a distant past, of laughter and happiness, followed her as she walked past the dining room door toward the library. She firmly ignored the sounds she knew would follow. She heard them at night more than enough.

She pushed the library door open, and a ghost of a smile flitted across her face. In here, at least, she felt a semblance of belonging. It reminded her of Hogwarts. She headed for a chair that was significantly less dusty than the others, that she had claimed as hers as soon as she had arrived back here. It wasn't the same chair she had spent time reading in years ago, but she refused to consider sitting where she once had. That chair was for children, and she wasn't a child.

The early morning light hadn't reached this section of the house yet, so the shadows covered the room. She wished she could use her wand. She loathed the feeling of helplessness, and the darkness covering the room looked poised as if to swallow her whole, to leave her trapped, never to be heard from again.

She shuddered, pushed the thoughts out of her mind and edged over to the torches on the walls. By touching her finger to them, they roared to life, chasing the shadows away. She released a breath she didn't know she was holding and collapsed in her chair.

On the desk next to her was a book. She knew it well, and in her moments of weakness, reading it had comforted her. The name didn't matter. If she was being honest, the contents didn't matter either. It had come from her parents, a gift on her fifth birthday. She had laughed and smiled, giving her mother and father a big hug as thanks.

She couldn't recall any time after that that she had been so free with her emotions. After they had been removed from her life, she had found herself with little patience for such childish emotions.

The desk held something else, too. A small portrait turned down so that she couldn't see it. She knew what it contained but looking at it had filled her with an unbearable sadness. It had been painted on her seventh birthday, just after her father had given her a broom, along with a promise to buy her the rumoured newest model that would be out on the market the same year she would start Hogwarts. Her face was etched with joy, and her father held her in an embrace, while her mother had her hands on her shoulders. She knew what the portrait showed, and she refused to look at it.

He never did get a chance to keep his promise.

She spent the hours reading, distracting herself from the deafening silence of the house. The light from the torches began to die out and the shadows grew long, and she found herself tired and hungry. She considered going back to the kitchen but decided she didn't have much of an appetite. She was used to going to sleep hungry, anyway. One of the few benefits of losing what she had lost, she figured.

The room hadn't changed. The bed covers were messy and unmade, and her school clothes and books still lay on the floor from where she had thrown them on her first day back in the house. She didn't bother taking off her clothes, and simply collapsed head first into the bed. She closed her eyes and concentrated on thinking of nothing, hoping against hope that she would simply close her eyes and when she opened them, it would be the next day.

She felt herself being shaken awake, and saw her mother and father sitting on her bed. She opened her mouth to ask what was going on, only for the two to pull her into a hug. They whispered to her that everything would be okay, and she had to be a strong girl, to carry the family name. She cried in confusion, and when she looked back at them, they were crying too. After a few seconds, but almost an eternity too soon, they let go of her and told her to stay in the room. They told her not to leave, under any circumstances. And although she begged them not to leave, screamed, cried and reached out for them, they turned, and hand in hand, walked out the door.

She tried as hard as she could to ignore the sounds she heard after that. Screams and shouts that haunted her mind. Sounds that she could still hear on a quiet day. She huddled under the covers, whispering pleas to the blanket around her to bring her parents back, to make everything okay again.

And then there was a sound, almost akin to glass shattering. The floor opened beneath her and she fell, screaming, into the abyss, begging for someone, anyone to save her, to not leave her alone.

She awoke, drenched in a cold sweat.