Into the Dark ((India))

[Drake Manning]

The transition back into the swing of school was never one that Drake took well. He didn't much like spending his breaks at home either, but at least there he could drink away his pain more freely. Here at school, he had to go to class and do work and be around people all the time. People annoyed him, or at least most people. The only people Drake seemed to be able to tolerate were those who he could use for his benefit. Then of course, there were those people, like India and Brianna, who Drake just wasn't sure about. They consumed his every thought unless he actively kept them out of his mind. Right now, he was more angry at India than anything. And with Brianna, he was just so confused. The night she had went to his house was unexpected, to say the least. Drake remembered waking up and feeling like he was in a daze, a dream of sorts. He couldn't distinguish between his feelings of wanting revenge for India leaving him hurt and alone at the beginning of break and the feelings of Brianna being there and being the person who helped him forget all the pain. Brianna hated him though, or at least it seemed to be the general consensus between them. Drake really couldn't tell though if he hated her or not. Something between them was different that night, and Drake couldn't quite figure it out.

Having just finished Transfiguration class, Drake carried his books under one arm as he made his way to the dungeons. As he passed younger students, he didn't even bother to look them in the eye. It seemed that some of them were afraid of Drake, and rightfully so. He always looked a mess, never caring to be neat for class. He hadn't shaved in a few days, and so his face was covered with a dusting of light brown stubble. The rough look seemed to be common for Drake lately. What did he have to really care about. The one person he finally opened himself to had left him so vulnerable and now bitter. In the past week or so that they had been back in the castle, Drake was glad he had stayed clear of India. He wasn't sure what he would do if he saw her. It would be hard not to look at her and wish that he had never opened himself for her to see the real him. At the same time, he had a hope that she might have had some sort of change of heart while over break. Then again, he might just ignore her mere existence; it might just be the least painful way of doing things. Cut her out. Forget everything that he had said and go on living his life of darkness. She would want that, right? She wanted to forget him. She wanted him to forget her. But, it wasn't that easy. Forgetting something like that would never be easy for Drake.

Pushing his way into the common room, Drake almost ran right over a younger Slytherin. The boy mumbled some sort of snide remark to which Drake didn't even bother saying anything back. No use in wasting his breath. There were better things to fill his time than arguing with some snotty first year. He would soon learn, like every other first year, that life is much bigger than you think. It can swallow you whole, and then you're left struggling just to take each breath, let alone wasting it on some pointless argument. Passing the couches that were in front of the fireplace, Drake subtly looked to see if he might spot India. It was an instinct, really, and he couldn't help but want to see her. He wanted to see if she looked as miserable as he felt. He wanted to know if she could look him in the eyes without feeling any emotion. With his head turned, looking around the common room instead of where he was walking, Drake turned back to look forward just in time to see India coming form the girls' dormitories. Talk about irony. He stopped walking, waiting for her to notice his presence. When she did, he gave her a manic sort of smile, almost sarcastic in nature. He laughed a bit and then couldn't help but spill what he had been dying to say. "Feel like taking any more stabs at me while I'm vulnerable?" Something inside of him hoped that perhaps she might be having as hard of a time as he was recently.

[India Nightingale]

India curled a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, ignoring all the odd glances people kept giving her. It hadn’t occurred to her to dye her hair back to black… after all, she couldn’t really remember having it black in the first place. She knew she barely looked in a mirror in the past, so it wasn’t as if it made a difference what colour her hair was. It only affected the people who could see her rather than herself. Ignoring their irritating whispers, India passed into the Common Room regardless of some people’s alarm. They evidently thought she was the wrong person – most likely Skye. India sighed inwardly, trying not to wonder where her twin was. Skye had been her rock recently, through all the events they had encountered. India wanted to glare at all these nosy people, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She had little energy and it was a waste of time. Shouldering her bag, India walked briskly through the Common Room, staring at the floor as she went, until she got into her dormitory and slammed the door shut. Breathing heavily, she brought out her wand and quickly rearranged her books for her next lesson; Charms. India paused halfway as she was putting her last textbook into her bag; tears were pricking her eyes, and she was thankful that no one else was in the room as she began to cry softly. Somehow she could feel her pride bash a little at that thought. India knew her past self didn’t like to cry, nor did it enjoy stares and whispers; and yet it all felt so normal.

Her tears stained the floor with little dark patches, rolling across her pale cheeks, seeping out of the sockets of her greeny-blue eyes. She didn’t know why she had so often since returning to school wanted to cry so much; the tears came on their own automatically and for no reason. It wasn’t like she was sad or unhappy – just confused. Finally the leakage stopped, and India was glad of it as she wiped them away from her face. Zipping up her bag, she shouldered it again, grappling for a mirror she had brought with her since the holidays. Looking into it, India tried not to flinch. Skye had told her she once hated mirrors, and her reflection, and she could feel her conscience despise herself as she stared into her visage. However, she steeled her determination, looking at her moist eyes for a moment and her pale cheeks, before lowering it. It was obvious she had been crying, but it wasn’t like anyone looked at her so intensely they could notice it. Untying her hair, she let the blonde straight locks fall across her face to hide her eyes. She supposed black hair would’ve been more effective, but she wasn’t about to dye it anytime soon. Not until she found her identity as India Nightingale, Ice Queen of the school and all Slytherins. Apparently she had a name she was meant to live up to, but right now she wasn’t sure what her past personality, built up over years of hatred and bitterness, entailed.

India exited her dormitory and headed down the flight of now-familiar stairs to enter the Common Room again. People were bustling around, most likely getting ready for lessons or something. India passed them without a second glance; she didn’t look at people nowadays, in case they saw through her eyes and into her soul. She felt so vulnerable. Walking at her usual brisk pace, not a single face she barely laid eyes on recognisable, India almost halted when she made eye contact with a tall boy, probably in the year above. Something about him, his sandy hair and rather fierce green eyes, caused her step to falter, her gaze to linger for half a second longer. Her heart gave a skip, almost, but not quite, a beat, but then she tore herself away, and moved towards the door. The boy was pretty near though, and suddenly he spoke, causing India to look up with a half-frown. He was much taller than her – over 6’ at least. He was rather intimidating, and he had a sarcastic, bitter smile on his face – he was also looking directly at her. “Excuse me?” India decided to stop for sure, because evidently he was speaking to her. There was no one else in the vicinity. Her hair framed her eyes and face carefully like a shield. “I’m sorry…” India started again when the boy made no move to clarify himself. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.” She continued in a courteous, though distant voice. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go to my next lesson…” Giving the boy one last odd look, India tried to walk away. Who was this guy anyway?

[Drake Manning]

Was she seriously going to play dumb? Drake let out a laugh of disbelief as India acted as though she had no idea who he was. Did she really think that her childish games would make him ignore her? Was it her idea of making him forget about her to pretend like she had already so easily forgotten about him? Whatever her plan had been, it had angered Drake, enough so that he he stormed over to the door she was going to exit from and he stood directly in front of it to block her from leaving. "When you died your hair blonde, are you sure you didn't fry your brains?" he questioned sarcastically. Drake lifted his hand and flicked some of the hair off of her shoulder. "What is this anyways. Oh wait, I get it. You must be the new India. You must be the India who doesn't talk to people like me. You are too good for me now, yeah?" Drake couldn't help but continue on in his cynical ways. Whether this was India's idea of a sick joke or her genuine way of thinking she was doing what was best for the both of them, Drake couldn't take it any longer.

"What are you doing, India? What are you even trying to prove here? You know, I can't believe I am even letting myself do this again. I can't believe that I am falling for the same trap I fell for before. Letting myself care. That's where I go wrong every time with you it seems. But you know what? I'm not going to be the one who falls this time. I'm not going to be the stupid one. If you want to play games, then you know damn well that I can play games. Drake pushed past her angrily, not even caring that the few people in the common room were now looking there way. A younger boy caught Drake's eye, at which point Drake swore at him and told him to mind his own damned business.

He was almost pacing at this point, not even realizing it. India had gotten under his skin, and Drake was furious at her and he couldn't even control it. He didn't want to be angry because it only meant that he still cared. But he couldn't stop himself. No matter how much he didn't want to care, no matter how much he wanted to just turn and leave India and her stupid blonde hair behind him, he couldn't. Drake simply couldn't make himself do it. Turning, he looked at her with a crazed look in his eyes and pointed with his finger. "You are evil, you know that." He gave a manic laugh. "And here I thought I was the evil one. I thought it was me who was so full of deception and lies. I should have known that it would take someone who was move evil than myself to make me lose at my own game. I should have been ready for this. But oh... oh it's not over, India. You haven't won yet." Drake spun another circle before sitting and putting his hands on his head. He was going crazy, literally. He couldn't control any of the feelings that spun inside of him, and all he wanted to do was take India into his arms. He fought that urge though, convincing himself that he had to get her out of his mind, out of his life, out of his way.

[India Nightingale]

India was forced to halt as the boy stormed up to the Common Room door to block her from leaving, this time his words angrier and even more sarcastic than before. She stopped and stared up at him, confused and irritated as she observed him as calmly as possible. She raised a slender eyebrow as he began ranting at her quite loudly. He was obviously angry – but about what? And how did it have anything to do with her? She wanted to shake her head in confusion, but didn’t, and instead, spoke in a cold voice that she felt she hadn’t used for a long, long time; there was something faintly familiar about her icy attitude. “For your information, this is my natural hair colour.” India stated smoothly, her gaze fixed and steady. There was no need to be afraid of this stranger who had come at her from out of nowhere. However, as he reached a hand out to her shoulder, India felt an odd sensation rise in her stomach. On instinct as the boy flicked some of her blonde hair off her shoulder, revealing more of her tear-stained face, she took a step backwards, as though flinching away from his touch. Her reaction was innate and immediate; she didn’t even know why she had responded in such a frightened way. Her body just screamed for her not to make contact with him. “Don’t touch me.” India finally found her voice again and muttered coldly, though her words were a direct order.

“I don’t know who you are,” India started again as she took another step back after listening to the boy’s ramblings about her being the ‘new’ India. His words oddly struck home too close in her heart, and India felt it beat faster within its confinements. However, as the boy continued speaking, she felt her anger return, which spurred her oncoming words in retaliation. “But I don’t appreciate being spoken to in such a derogatory manner. I believe you have mistaken me for the wrong person. I don’t know you. I don’t even know your name. I have no recollection of your existence in my life.” India spoke the words almost mechanically, but her mind began to wonder; perhaps she did know this boy – before the incident over the winter holidays. However, he made it seem like they had an important relationship of sorts; would India have forgotten someone so significant in her life? She doubted it. Either this boy had meant nothing, or he was just making it all up. India wanted to believe it was the latter. “Even if you did once know me,” she continued, a little quieter, “like you said, the old India has gone. This is a new me. This is a different life. This is a new life. You’re not a part of it.” Her eyes caught his, and she could detect pain beneath all that anger and bitterness. Just who was he?

“I’m not doing anything.” India claimed in response to the boy’s accusation, frowning in annoyance. “I’m not trying to prove anything. For your information, I’m just trying to live.” Her voice was haughty, defensive; she didn’t know where this attitude of hers was coming from, but it felt natural. “Just stop doing it then.” India stated calmly at the end of the boy’s rant, fixing him with a level look. “Just stop caring then. There are no traps; I think you’re making your own up in your mind. I’m not tripping you up; I’m not trying to make you fall. For goodness sake, I don’t even know who you are.” India pushed in a forceful voice, her frown across her forehead increasing. “I’m not playing any games. I already said; I just want to live. Maybe you should try it some day.” Her last remark came out more sarcastic than she had planned, but she couldn’t help it; this boy’s own attitude was doing it to her. It was getting under her skin. He physically pushed past her, the contact between their arms causing India to shiver visibly, sending a shoot of recognition down her spine. It didn’t trigger anything though, so India dismissed it as just… a fluke. Yeah. A fluke. India turned to watch the older Slytherin as he swore at someone loudly; their confrontation had attracted quite a lot of attention, but there wasn’t anything India could do now. At least she knew she hadn’t brought this on herself.

India waited silently for the boy to calm himself, to regain his dignity. He had evidently lost something… his cool, his composure. She pitied him inside because watching him, she knew she had felt like this after waking up and forgetting her own identity. Her own hand reached up to brush at some strands of blonde falling over her eyes, hiding the red blotches on her face. Fingering her cheeks, her hand fell down again when the boy began to speak once more. Listening to him though, India couldn’t help but feel even angrier, even more confused; and somehow, she felt hurt too. Her demeanour returned to being cold as she gave the boy a reply, perhaps her pain obvious in her eyes, but she didn’t realise. “So what if I am evil?” She questioned in a low, controlled voice, which was even more terrifying than her usual icy tone. “You don’t know the real me, so stop assuming you do. I hate it when people make assumptions about me. Mind your own business and I’ll stay out of yours gladly. Whatever I have done to you… it’s over. Put me out of her head; can’t you just forget? Forgetting is easy.” India’s voice almost faltered at this point, but resumed speaking with a strong tone. “This is not a game. Life is not a game. You can’t win or lose. It’s about how you play it, for once.” India was speaking from her last few weeks of experience, remembering the darkness she had been encased in. She watched the boy with his head in his hands, frantic and crazy over her, and wondered who he really was. Somehow, she really wanted to know. What had she ever done to him?

[Drake Manning]

As Drake sat and starred at India, all he could think about was trying to figure out when it really was that he had truly lost control. Had she had him beat from the beginning? Was he just one of her victims in a game that he thought he was in control of? Whatever it was, India had him by the heart. He was in a point so vulnerable that he barely even knew what to do about it. It was humiliating, sickening, and just plain destructive for Drake. He sat and wondered how he could have thought that he was in love with her whenever he was simply a pawn in her grand scheme. He was a fly caught in her web and now as she spun the threads of silk around him, all he could do was try frantically to escape as it only got harder and harder to know what way was up and what way was down. He had to fight though. Drake was not going to give up. He never gave up. He couldn't give up.

"Shut up, would you!?" he screamed. "Just stop it." He was irate. "If it's not a bloody game, then why are you still playing? You had me convinced that this was real. You had me fooled, but I don't fall for the same trick twice. I may have been damned stupid the first time, but I'm not a child that you can keep manipulating over and over." He stood up again and neared India, so angry that he felt he could just hit her. But he didn't. Something inside of him wouldn't let himself do it. A part of him was convinced that he was crazy and this was all some sort of way for India to test him. A part of him still loved her no matter how much the rest of him hated her. It made him sick though. How could he love someone who was standing there and playing with his heart after already ripping it out when he made himself vulnerable to her. No, he didn't love her, did he? It was just his imagination, right? It was just her... it was her playing her games and making him think that he loved her.

He couldn't look her in the face without feeling a burning sensation in his chest. "You may have one the first time. You may have won the battle. But this war isn't even close to being done. If you think you've fooled me, you are wrong, India. Now that I know what you are up to, you are not going to fool me again. So you can go on living life," he shouted in a sarcastic tone. "Live your bloody life, but know that I will always be here in the shadows. I'm not letting you just walk away from all of this. You can't just walk away from this mess that you've created. You played the game, and now you have to deal with the consequences." He barely knew what he was saying, but the words were whatever things came to his mind that sounded like they would be the right things to say. He wanted to confuse her. He wanted her to be afraid. He wanted her to feel how he felt. Alone. Confused. And Afraid.

Drake tried to find himself. He tried to figure out what was happening. Why was she able to tear him apart like this. He was going mad. Never before did he feel so out of control. Drake was always in control, but now he felt as though he had no control at all. He felt like she was the marionette and he was the puppet who was hanging helplessly from her strings. Most of all, she had a string on his heart and every time he tried to pull away from her it sent a sharp pain deep inside of him. He didn't even know how to escape if he wanted to. And so all he could do was stand and stare at the face which was causing him so much pain. All he could do was look into her eyes, those eyes that acted as though they knew nothing of what he was talking about, and desperately wish that he might find some way to free himself from this darkness.

[India Nightingale]

India's bloodshot eyes widened when the older boy screamed at her, his heightened voice echoing around the steadily quieting Common Room. As he ordered, India shut her mouth immediately, teeth griding in frustration as her hands clenched into fists; it took a lot of her will-power not to take a step back from the contorted look of pain on his face. This boy was confusing her, humiliating her, and most importantly, frightening her now, and her body reflexes screamed for her to leave. Leave, leave right now. But, India had to try one last time - she had to convince this boy... man, even, that this... or whatever it was between them, was not a game. "Look... I'll only say this one more time. I don't know you, and trust me when I say I am not playing any kind of game. It's over. I'm not manipulating anybody, you have to believe me." Her voice was pleading, but it was firm and strong, with perhaps only a slight bit of uncertainty. Suddenly, the boy began to advance towards her, and involuntarily, India took a step back - a step she had been holding back for a while now. She wasn't scared of him, and yet... something about him intimidated her, caused her emotions to distort and erupt in strange yet familiar ways. It left India drained and puzzled, for just like her amnesia, she felt she was grasping at something utterly unattainable - like the darkness had swallowed this truth up, and was not ever going to give it her back.

Hearing the boy's words, India felt her insides curl, cold tendrils of fear and confusion and pain mixing in a dangerous concoction. Her head swam with growing thoughts, all screaming for her attention, and she frowned as a flash of pain shot through her head. Trying to control herself, India looked up at the boy again, her eyes fixing steadily on his, a pleading shine within. "Please leave me alone." Her voice came as a whisper, unheard by anyone but him. "I never meant to hurt you intentionally. I promise." A part of her felt like she knew what she was trying to convey so much to this desperate boy, but the other side was still shrouded in darkness, waiting for the light. For now, all she could do was rely on the blind side, and hope she knew what she was doing... or saying. Suddenly, she stalked right up to him, her face glaring right up at his, eyes flashing with resolution. "But... I will face your consequences, if you deign it so. I obviously can't shy away from it, can I? You leave me no choice. Do your worst, good sir. I am prepared and ready to face whatever you have to fling at me. Trust me. There's not a lot of pain I have not seen and experienced." Her hiss was low but deadly, a poison in it even India herself did not know existed. After several long seconds of staring coldly into the boy's eyes, India drew away, her stature diminishing, her self-confidence seemingly gone, vapourised into thin air, leaving but a shell of her previous self.

"I'm not playing the game anymore." India spoke again as quietly as possible, shaking her head, more blonde locks falling across to hide her pained face. "I'm not. If you have to play the game, if I have to suffer the consequences, so be it... But please... I ask you one last time... please leave me alone, Drake." She'd barely even noticed his name slipping out of her mouth, because the moment she said it, she began to turn away, desperate to leave not only the gathering audience who would undoubtedly latch onto this 'fascinating' event and broadcast it to the rest of the lucky school, but from the Slytherin himself. She just couldn't look into those hurt eyes any longer, for when she did, all she could feel was a blossoming wound of guilt. She didn't know where the gun had come from, and who had shot it, but it hurt like hell. Weirdly enough, it felt like the boy had inflicted it upon her without her realisation. How had he done that, unless he had hidden it inside of her before her amnesia? But her contemplations of the boy were lost, as without another word, India gathered her composure and stalked out of the Common Room, elbowing strangers roughly out of the way. She didn't look back.