[Azkaban 4/5]Lost in Azkaban

|| One could say Chava had been through many terrible experiences in her lifetime, many that most wouldn't live through. Chava was typically a survivor, strong willed, yet this new experience was what broke her. Or it felt like she was breaking, at any rate. Through all her life, this was her personal hell. Designed entirely to tear her to shreds. She was unsure how much time has passed since the Auror had dragged her off from an unhelping Damien. She thought she was at her worst then, but with each passing minute her anger grew worse and worse, until the rage and pain was all she was anymore. The trial for her was almost pathetic, in her opinion, as she sat chained away before the Ministry with dementors surrounding her, as if she were going to kill them at any moment. Which, frankly, she might have had she not been restrained, so she supposed there was some logic behind this. Not that she cared. Most of the evidence pointed against her, though not all, and it was enough to send her locked up in Azkaban with a life sentence, with a warning that any misconduct would lead to a surefire dementors kiss. At this rate, Chava started to think the kiss would be better than this. At least then she wouldn't have to suffer anymore, it would be over with. Instead she was stuck, and even in her cell she was chained up at the wrists, labelled as too dangerous for the other prisoners. Which, probably had to do with the fact that everytime someone was near Chava made another death threat, promises to kill once she got away. So of course they did her best not to let her get away. "Off her rocker, that one," she would hear them whisper as they locked her away in her cell, shaking their heads. "Hawthorne did a service bringing this girl in," they said, with those smug little grins on their faces, satisfied with themselves. She really did want to kill them all, everyone who walked past her, but after what felt like weeks in her little cell in Azkaban, her thoughts grew darker and darker, occupied with only two things. Dementors were known to make everything colder, consuming her thoughts with every bad thing that happened to her, every bad thing anyone had done to her, which was the real torture. And for Chava, her thoughts were the worst, specifically two things. Yes, she saw her first lover, she saw Blake, Blake's daughter, Lucedio almost killing her... But it was the most recent that left Chava screaming every night in her cell, tearing at her own skin. She saw Damien, she saw him all the time, heard his words, and instead of comforting her, it made her worse. She had in no way forgiven him for what he had done, for throwing her to the side, for letting her get to Azkaban, and she didn't think she could ever forgive him. He had told her he would try to break her out, but it had already been a while. How could she believe the one who let her get here in the first place? And she had loved him, and that tore her apart. How could she believe anything he said to her ever? When the one she loved betrayed her once more? It had happened twice before, she should have seen it coming. Besides Damien, Chava thought of death. She wanted death. She wanted to feel her heart stop beating, to tear at her skin until she was bleeding, to choke and gasp for a breath to keep her alive, her attempts futile. That would be preferable to prison, where the dementors breathed down her neck and the only thing on her mind was the man who let her get here. Every night Chava screamed and tore at her skin, getting riskier and riskier until she earned those chains on her wrists and ankles. The woman was getting thinner already, her hair a mess, cuts on her wrists from where the chains dug into her. She was quite a sight to see. Still no one came for her, and she gave up. "Poor little psychopath," they would say, which would give Chava more cause to scream, moving as if to lunge at them who would taunt her. "GET OUT! GO! BEFORE I KILL YOU TOO!" Chava tended to scream, the chains digging further into her wrists as she tried to move. After that she would break down. "@%$k you, @%$k you, @%$k you, it's /your/ fault... you did this..." She mutters, looking at an invisible man before her. The anger and the hurt made her numb. Within the last few days of her being locked up, she no longer had the energy to speak, or lunge at anyone, or scream or try to move. She sat in her cell, not fighting anything, unblinking just as she was before she met Damien, or even Blake, at her peak of insanity. It was like she was dead, but still breathing. Chava had a feeling she would stay numb and terribly still forever, up until the day she finally died in that cell. And when that day came, Chava would welcome it. ||

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