lost in the light

i'm lost in the light
i pray for the night
to take me, take me
Flora Megaera Carrow  

He hated going to the Adria. He didn't know which of the Carrow ladies owned that place, because out of the three of them he didn't know which was worse. The young one, the one who didn't look like them, she was bad enough. She was dismissive if he showed up, and Bryce knew that she only had the title because she got married. What was her damn name again? He should know it, he was in Hogwarts with her for a brief time. Amy? It was longer than that, though, and he assumed that she took a bit of triumph in how she ordered him about. The twins, they were harder to please, and their mother was terrifying. But he hated the Adria because sometimes there were two of them. Sometimes both of the twins were there to yell and shriek and curse, and they often dressed alike despite how old they were. He didn't quite understand it; they were in their mid-thirties if he was placing them right, and he didn't know why they still felt the need to wear the same clothes. They didn't look any  younger. They just looked more deranged.

Which they were. He wasn't being biased because he knew that they were far crazier than anyone could have guessed. They looked so sweet, but they shot curses just as bad as any of the Death Eaters occasionally on patrol. He didn't know if it was just the family name, as he knew of the other Carrow, the one closer to his age. Maybe they all just looked nice and then acted psychotic. Whatever one was normally in charge of the Adria always started out the same, pointing him to where he needed to go and then remaining silent for a few moments. He never knew what he was doing wrong, and he always wanted to see if the other muggleborns were treated the same, but he forgot. He couldn't remember by the time that he got home. He was always so tired, so ready to collapse, and then he had to look at Olive of all things and have to worry about whether or not the pint-sized brat was doing fine. He was never sure why she decided to start cursing him, and he knew that he should try to figure it out so that he didn't do it again, but Bryce was an idiot. He just tried to forget what he was doing while he was gardening, he tried to pretend like things were going better than they were.

He didn't know why. He knew that it was a stupid coping mechanism, he knew that it was a way for him to screw himself over in the end, but he tried to forget what he was doing with his life. He tried to forget that he was shoved into apartments overridden with people, and he tried to forget that there was a possibility that he could die any day. He had people that he had to live for. He had people that he had to try not to kill for, too, and he had a job waiting for him when he got out of there. Half of the time he thought about running away, but he couldn't do that yet. He couldn't just... He had to wait. He had to wait and see and get Olive out, and then he would worry about running away. He knew that Dion would understand, at least a bit. Dion would get why he wanted to wait. Bryce had to push all thoughts about running away for a bit, and he focused on the plants that were in front of him. They weren't the dangerous magical type, but he was sure that one of the Lady Carrows had something hidden away for later. At least he was outside, in the back, away from people's eyes. He hated when everyone could see him trimming things, and he was sure that the lady wanted him away from her customers.

"I ask you for one simple thing." Her voice was soft, quiet. "One simple little thing, to fit that in that filthy little Mudblood mind of yours, something even a failure like you can understand. I ask you to cut the short hedges to seventy-four centimeters. Easy ask, simple job. In, out, gone."

Her lips twisted. "But no, you can't even do that." She glanced at her wand, rolling it through her fingers. "Do you know what that means, Mudblood? So tell me-- would you prefer to be restrained, or loose? You see, if you stain anything, I'll simply take even more out of you."

Two short flicks of her wand, and long coil of rope appeared, and another flick grew angry-looking spikes from it. "You've five seconds to decide, Mudblood. How would you prefer your punishment?"

He didn't deserve it, she knew. It was far too good for him-- giving him an option, speaking to him as if he was only the dirt below her feet.

Things were complicated. That was the best way to describe the situation. Complicated. Because, for once, he could honestly say that he hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t managed to piss off anyone, not this time. Bryce had attempted to do things right. He had tried his hardest to be something, someone, that wouldn’t get in trouble. For once in his life, he was trying to be that stupid little ideal of perfect that they needed. A perfect muggleborn. That was stupid, especially since he didn’t quite fit the bill to begin with. But that was what he was trying to do. He was trying to be a perfect muggleborn. He was trying to keep from getting himself or any others hurt, and that was what was most important right now. Keep the purebloods from being too mad, keep them from lashing out at the other kids. He wasn’t important. He was just someone who was surviving, but he wasn’t that important. But he wasn’t going to let anything happen to Olive or the younger kids.

If he had to be the one to suffer in order to keep them from being hurt… Bryce would suck it up. He would deal with it. He would make it through; he had taken a few curses before. “What?” He couldn’t figure out what to say, what she wanted him to do. This was all wrong. There was no part of it that was right. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t… And then there was a rope, and spikes, and… She just kept looking at him like he was scum. Bryce gritted his teeth. “No.” He wasn’t making a choice. He wasn’t giving her the benefit of the doubt. He turned to move out of her way, back into the hotel, back towards civilization.

CW: Carrowness starting

Her lips parted in a smile at his disobedience. It disgusted her, how the filth thought that since they were allowed to live, they were allowed to have opinions, options given to them not by their natural superiors, but by their own base instincts.

"I didn't give you permission to leave, Mudblood." She shook her head in mock-sympathy. They were not in the main hall; they were one of her gardens. With a flick of her wand, the glass turned opaque. She'd made some adjustments to the greenhouse once they had came to power, the better to have places to torture. It was soundproofed, and she'd put it to enough tests to know that screams would not be heard once the walls went dark. Sienna had layered those spells for her, making sure that once was done with the other. She'd purchased some breeds of flowers from Daphne the older woman had sworn were carnivorous enough to leave no traces. The Greengrasses were known for their ornamental and exotic blooms, so she supposed that was true enough. Still, she only did business with the elder and not the younger.

"Crucio." The word was near a whisper, lovingly pulled from between her lips.