Outcasts
by Azkaban’s Guard
Chapter 4- Dolor (Pain)
The muggle walked up with the needle pointed towards her threateningly, she
held it tight as if I was going to use it as a weapon against her. And I would
have, if only it had been a wand, but I was resigned to my fate- sitting on a
smooth leather chair that I would surely slip off of if I wasn’t bound so
tightly.
And just like a horror movie that muggles simply adore, the liquid substance
spurted out melodramatically. And it was all to clear that this muggle was a
fan of such films from the remark: “This won’t hurt...much.
And in the face of a potential insertion of a rather large metal object I
rolled my eyes. And before my lights went out I had time to mutter one last
thing groggily, which I never intended to say out loud. “Muggle scum,
filthy...scum...mu-“
That would have been catastrophic had it been said anywhere other than a mental
hospital. But as it was, the nurse made nothing more of it than a garbled
insult. Which she also ignored, she’d been here far too long to be offended by
an insane person that claimed to be a witch in her sleep. She didn’t even
realise the not-so-subtle difference between claiming and wishing...
That needle inspired forgotten pain in my drugged mind and brought me back to
something that I would relive again every night after.
It was night. Night that had come early- night that was a
surprise to all. There was no explanation for the suns rays to droop, to
wilt as I looked up at them with a tear in my eye. “Barty!” I don’t know why I screamed for him as if he
would appear the same person he was before. But when someone falls into
darkness, especially someone you love, who cares about rational explanations,
about good reasons!
I could have been plunged in liquid ice and still felt warmer then I was now.
There was a chill in my heart. A love for a lost person, a
lost love. “BROTHER!” I cried. I shrieked until my voice failed me,
until my windpipe was scratched my desperate pleas.
I longed for him, I traipsed through the streets screaming silently and expecting
no reply. At last my legs as well as my voice collapsed. I’d have weak leg
muscles from then on, which did not give me much chance to run from future
troubles. But I can’t run from reality no matter how fast I can sprint.
I searched while remaining stationary; my eyes darted to every movement.
An old tomcat whaling to a distant rival was mistaken
for a response from my brother, and for a while I lay relieved knowing he’d
find me and take home in his arms, all accusations of evil denied. A person stumbled
down the street, a drunk that had clearly just been thrown out of a nearby pub.
I mouthed a word of my brother before he turned and leered. I looked away
immediately- I couldn’t allow distractions while my Barty
could be walking by that very second.
But Barty didn’t appear that night. Or the night after. Not for another three months- but by
that time I’d ran away from the house that reminded me of such pain. I never
would see him again.
The nurse wiped the spot on my arm where the sedative had been administered.
She looked sorrowfully at me as I massaged my sore windpipe.
“Nightmares?”
I nodded sadly; I couldn’t bear to explain...
“Pain- just another great adventure, eh?”