To Kill A Mockingbird ((Closed))

[India Nightingale]

((Set in the winter holidays.))

India looked up at the doors to the place she had called home for the last five (almost six) years with a rare fond smile, slight relief reflected in her blue-green eyes. Finally back in Scotland with Duke. As usual, the owner of the castle hadn’t come to collect his adopted children from Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Unsurprisingly, Duke was away on business until the late evening, so like every year, just before the twins returned, he would send India a key to the castle so they could let themselves in upon arrival. Fishing for it now in her coat pocket, India drew it out with hidden glee, then proceeded to stick it into the lock. Whilst trying to open the door, India peered round her shoulder in irritation, her face now screwed up in a characteristic scowl. “Get on with it. You’re holding me up.”

Skye was nearing India with Ivory’s carry case in one hand, her wand in the other levitating her heavy trunk. Now that the twins were of age, they could perform magic out of school. Although, due to Skye's disability, she still struggled with such spells. India could easily tell Skye was having a bit of trouble with her trunk, but she on the other hand had powered on in determination ahead of her twin without much thought. India may be physically weaker than Skye, what with always starving herself, and it was obvious she was much thinner, but India’s determination was an unstoppable force. Her own luggage was sitting obediently by her feet, Devil not making a noise as he was sleeping soundly in his carry case. India remembered the first year she and Skye had come to live here; back then, Duke had a manservant by the name of Boris, who was an old and elderly wizard, having served Duke for over a decade. He’d always done the odd jobs, looking after the children when his master was on leave with work. But Boris had passed away at the end of India’s second year at Hogwarts. She didn’t really miss the guy, but he was helpful on occasions like this. Boris would go pick them up from the train station, drive them home and help with the luggage. He’d also make the meals, which India hated doing. Since Boris’ death, Duke hadn’t employed anyone else. He believed the twins were old enough to look after themselves now, and he didn’t trust most people anyway. Even with Boris, Duke was still his solitary self.

Once Skye had finally reached her, forcing India to pull out of her memories of Boris, she opened the door and shoved her luggage inside roughly. Letting Skye in after, India proceeded to lock the door again with a loud slam and pocket the key with care, knowing she’d have to return it to Duke later. Sine Duke had requested India's presence at home this presence (along with Skye's for some utterly pathetic reason), she had hoped her guardian would come meet her. Still, he was a busy man. Without another word, India grabbed Devil’s case and her trunk, and disappeared into one of the several lounges, leaving Skye to her devices. Closing the door behind her, India allowed a smile whilst she unlocked Devil’s case and carefully took the small black-furred creature out. Sleepily, Devil unfurled his lithe body in India’s arms, yawning with outstretched fangs, before licking his mistress’ cheek affectionately. India chuckled softly, in case Skye’s hearing picked up anything from the hallway, “Devil, we’re home!”

[India Nightingale]

India had just finished her unpacking after an hour or so, her trunk now mostly empty save for a few pieces of stray parchment. After waiting for Skye to disappear, India had levitated her stuff to the very top floor where her room was situated. Now her clothes were neatly folded away in the wardrobe, her books back in alphabetical order on the shelves. Turning around, India noted with contentment that her room was just the way she had left it a year ago; nothing had changed, and that was the way India liked it. Nobody had meddled in her room, and she was glad Duke had put the anti-dust spell on it. Looking around with a blank expression, she recalled the first time she had set foot in this room. It had been perfect, extremely spacious with a luxurious four-poster bed. The only flaw though was a huge floor length mirror in the corner of the room, reflecting the black painted walls surrounding it. Having stared into is as an eleven-year-old girl, with that wavy blonde hair and green-blue eyes, India had gone into an unstoppable rage and smashed the mirror into smithereens. The ruckus had sent Duke coming, who, once understanding the situation, took India outside to calm her down, using a spell to clean her light wounds from the shattered glass. At the time she had been distraught, in tears, blood staining her jacket sleeve. Duke had disappeared back into the bedroom, and when he had next led India in there, shaking and moaning, the grand mirror had disappeared.

That was what Duke did. He made the things India hated and feared in life disappear forever. He was her guardian angel who defeated all the demons in her head. Of course, he couldn’t get rid of all mirrors, destroy fire, make India beautiful, and get rid of Skye, but then again he wasn’t a god. She couldn’t, shouldn’t, expect any more.

A knock on the door alerted India to someone’s presence, bumping her out of her deep unsettling memories, for which she was grateful. Looking up, India strode across her large bedroom towards the entrance, bare feet pressing against fluffy black carpet. “Who is it?” It could only be one of two people, and India had high hopes of who it was, though she remained sounding indifferent and cold. A muffled reply made India beam despite herself though, having recognised the voice immediately (since there was only one other person in the house who could actually speak); her tone lost all trace of its initial coldness, and unhesitantly she flung her door open and ran into the arms of her guest. “Duke! You’re back!” India exclaimed happily, eyes shining in delight like they hadn’t for months. “And so soon!” It wasn’t like Duke to make it home before their usually very late dinner, and India was extremely happy she needn’t have been forced to eat alone with her homemade food the first day back from Hogwarts. Skye and her always ate separately, making their own meals, because India wished to be nowhere near her twin, and she didn’t like to think she needed to rely on Skye either. Dinner took forever to make, and having Duke use magic was much more convenient. Not that India couldn’t do it herself now - she just wasn't too experienced at it. Having recently become a fully fledged wizard, as India was one of the oldest students in her year, apparition had become available to her, and she was itching to use it more often. It was like a muggle attempting to drive for the first time. Plus she needn’t rely on the Floo Network any longer. The damned thing.

“Yes I am.” Duke chuckled, embracing India tightly and burying his face in her mass of black hair, which ne noted smelled of fresh grass and flowers. “I finished my case early just to get home and see you.” India’s beam was infectious, and he smiled in return as he untangled himself a little. Picking the small girl up, he swung her around carefully, causing her to giggle like a five-year-old. Her weight was nothing really. Especially considering how little she actually ate… Duke put her down gently after a while, and smiled at his adopted child. From over six foot, India seemed rather small and vulnerable. “So how’s my little princess been?”
India gave a nonchalant, uncaring shrug. “I’ve been good. This term was boring. The NEWTs are easier than I thought.” She leaned against the doorway of her bedroom casually, completely at ease in Duke’s presence. A hand snaked to her hair to finger a lock of straightened black, the only sign that India's thoughts had strayed to something not quite as comforting as she had stated: Drake Manning.
“I’m sorry making you come back this Christmas.” Duke started apologetically, chucking India fondly under the chin and causing her face to brighten up from her half scowl. She was so easy to please. “I really am. I'm sure you enjoy it much more at school. But I will make it up to you. I have a surprise.” Duke had been the only one ever to be able to get away with calling India by any nickname. And quite honestly, she liked hearing it from his mouth.
India shook her head with a small smile in response. “I'm looking forward to it, having made this long journey.”
“Don’t worry,” Duke smiled secretly, hand caressing through India’s soft locks of black whilst patting her lovingly on the head. “You will.”

[India Nightingale]

India let her wavy black hair cascade past her shoulders as it fell from tight plaits, wave after wave curling over her slender pale neck. Smiling at the familiar feel of soft locks against her skin, India smoothed it out carefully and looked down at Devil, who was sitting obediently on her dressing table, keen green eyes glittering up at his mistress. “What do you think, Dev?” India asked with a small smile, twirling in front of the mirrorless table. Devil gave an agreeable meow as he tilted his head, and India nodded in return. “Thanks. No mirror can beat you.” India’s smile was fond as her hand reached to pet Devil gratefully behind his ears before he leapt down to the carpeted floor and left India to her own devices, now that his job was done. It felt good to have wavy hair again, India decided as she left the dressing table and wandered out of the room. The opposite of Skye’s straight blonde tresses, India smiled to herself in satisfaction. India reached the landing and looked down the long trail of spiralling stairs with a blank expression. The castle was still and quiet, but India could hear the faint humming of Skye’s mellow music drifting past her twin’s bedroom door and up the flight of steps. India frowned. Besides the usual soft music however, the mansion was calm and peaceful, Skye and India its only occupants. Duke wasn’t home yet, and they had no servants or house elves; not anymore. India was inwardly grateful for this though. The house felt completely full with just her and Skye’s presence, and at times India even felt claustrophobic, trapped breathing the polluted air Skye also breathed. She also didn’t like sharing her space, preferring her inner privacy; yet without her twin, it was as though India was all alone in the world, her voice an echo against the walls when she called for Devil.

India swallowed a groan, her frown increasing a notch. Not knowing what to do with herself, she stooped and sat on the top step, gloomily and remorsefully staring down the long flight of leering stairs. A lot had happened this past half a year, she thought back reluctantly, and it was only about two weeks left till the next new year. There had been the episode with the booze in the summer, the first time India had met Drake Manning. She had realised she quite like the numbed feeling alcohol gave you, but at the same time India was afraid of being put in the same situation as before. Drake, too, scared her. Everything about him... What had happened when she had seen him afterwards, then getting interrupted by Drake's annoying admirer, Ryann. Then there was the Library incident, when Drake had pestered her constantly. He had been so annoying, India had wanted to hit him, or curse him. Finally, the term with Drake had rounded off with an argument at sorts at the Winter Ball... and that kiss. India's hands subconsciously went to her lips, brushing her nails over them with a thoughtful look. She felt tainted; and yet there was something about that sensation when Drake was holding her against him that she somehow... liked. India hated men, but Drake... although he stood for everything India abhored, there was something about him that she knew was different. She just didn't want to admit it. Because if she did, she might eventually like Drake too - yes. Apparently he liked her. This was an unbelievable fact India had chosen not to believe. No one in their right mind would like her.

India gave a long, suffering sigh, before picking herself daintily from the floor and traipsing down the stairs at a leisurely pace. Duke would be home soon, she smiled with satisfaction, and then India’s mind would be at peace for a few hours. No more Drake. Perhaps they could do something together if Duke had the free time. Glancing at the watch on her wrist, India passed the third floor where Skye housed. Refraining a scowl from flicking onto her face, she stalked past and moved towards the second floor. It wasn’t until she was almost reaching the first story stairs when India realised something she hadn’t noticed before whilst making her way down. Skye’s music no longer floated soothingly from her spot above India’s head. No calming notes of violins and flutes pierced the atmosphere. There was only eerie silence that echoed round the large castle. This in itself was weird. Skye always had music on. The same songs from the same albums, though they were probably not. India merely accepted it as that because they all sounded identical. Yet she still knew the difference. India was sure she had heard the sounds emitting from Skye’s room when she had left her bedroom… or maybe she had been dreaming. Perhaps her twin was not at home, which was rare, but there were times the Gryffindor left the castle for her own reasons. India gave an irritated growl after a long pause, hands fingering the wooden banisters. Shaking her head in disbelief and agitation, she started to descend the steps again, adamant that simply nothing was wrong with Skye. She was probably not here. But why did India’s gut tell her differently?

[India Nightingale]

“Duke, I don’t like this.” India muttered nervously as she tried to keep up with her guardian’s long strides, her eyes flitting around her vegetative surroundings like a frightened rabbit. In her half shaking hands she grasped a large rifle gun, whilst Duke held a similar one up ahead. However, he wore an expression of excited anticipation, whilst India’s was one of anxiety and fear. The trees neighbouring the large patch of long grass they were walking through whistled warningly in the late summer wind, and India’s heart longed to go home and see if Skye was roaming the large mansion on her own. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to see her twin sister, because somehow India felt uneasy about leaving the castle with just Skye alone there.
“India, India,” Duke admonished in good humour without turning his head, the late afternoon sun reflecting off his crop of dark hair hanging around his eyes. “Come now. You want to spend time with dear old me, right? When was the last time we did something together? The little time I spend with you we do what you want to do; surely you cannot object to trying one of my hobbies?” India didn’t need to see Duke’s face to know that he had a smirk-like smile on his face; she could hear it in his voice. India knew Duke knew she wouldn’t say no. She wouldn’t turn back home and run to Skye. She never would. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it when you get the feel for it.” Duke added in a kinder tone of voice. “If you’re anything like me… which you are.”

India lapsed into contemplative silence as she continued following Duke with no further questions, her eyes trying to stay fixedly on her rifle, only leading to an increase in the thumping of her heart. Was she really as similar to Duke as he led her to believe? As she had led herself to believe? India wanted to think she was identical to Duke rather than to Skye, but the truth of the matter was that the more India managed to decipher of her mysterious guardian, the more she realised he was very different to the man she imagined in her head. India had built up a steadfast image of Duke in her mind, and the truth of reality was confusing her beliefs of the man. Although India held a scary, biting front, she still had kindness and other such pure qualities contained within her; though she never let them out unless she was around Duke, India was very aware they lay in her heart, dormant most of her life. Duke on the other hand was a walking enigma. She didn’t understand the way his mind worked. One day he could be sweet and caring, the next cutting and sarcastic. Duke flitted from one person to another. Generally he was the same man, but sometimes India wondered if she knew him at all. He frightened her; he was the only person in the world that could frighten her the way he did. India could be chilled to the bone by Duke without him even saying a word; just a glance from him unsparingly would cause her defences to crumble and her heart to drop.

Duke had a lot of control over her, India knew. But she didn’t want to care. She was extremely good at blinding herself from the truths in life. Stumbling over yet another rock beneath her feet, India opened her mouth, only to shut it again with another glance up at Duke’s broad back. Soon they were in what India supposed was the right position, but she honestly couldn’t see what made this spot so special as Duke cocked his rifle into action. Everywhere India peered was grassland, extending out to more forests and meadows. This part of Scotland was so secluded from society, India felt even more broken off from the world than ever. “Ready, India?” Duke spared his foster child a mere glance, before lifting the gun onto his arm with a stifled grin of thrill, “Just follow my lead. You’ll find hunting it actually rather satisfying.” He spoke as though he knew everything, India noted bitterly, but followed Duke’s example. Her arms shook. “Relax,” Duke chided with a raised eyebrow as he looked across at her again. India tried to heed his order, but failed. “You have to be calm and collected when hunting.” Duke explained slowly, though it was obvious his patience was thinning. “It’s an art. You have to stalk your prey… Like that bird over there.” India could see the creature circling above them in the distance, a shadowed spot in the afternoon sky. A part of her longed to be it. Feel freedom at her fingertips. “Just… follow it. Aim…” A tongue licked across dry lips in concentration, brow furrowed as eyes trained on its prey. India screamed for the bird to run. Run for its life.

“And fire.”

BANG

[India Nightingale]

“Duke, where are you going?” India asked frantically, gun almost slipping through her shaking arms. Her guardian was wading quickly through the long grass, neglecting to even turn to look at India as he answered. His back was gradually getting further and further away. India tried her best not to run after him.
”Home, love.” Duke’s answer was light and carefree as he strode away. “I’ll see you later. You’d better not return until you get one.” Although this sounded like a joke, India felt a chill run down her spine. It seemed more like a threat to her.
”But Duke,” India started anxiously, eyes wide as she tried to gather her wits about her. “Give me a break. I obviously have no talent for hunting and shooting and all this stuff. It’s a man’s job.” She was grappling at loose straws now, but India didn’t care. The pair of them had been at this for over two hours now; the glowing orange sun was setting gradually against the backdrop of cerulean. India’s feet were killing her, her arms felt weak and frail, and the ringing gunshots they had fired echoed repeatedly in her ears. They caused her heart to vibrate with fear. Yet after all those shots, India hadn’t shot a single bird; Duke had hit every single one he had aimed for. Not a shot of ammunition was wasted.
“Don’t lie to yourself, India.” Duke’s voice wasn’t malicious, but neither was it any comfort. “You’re just missing them because you’re too scared to hold the damn gun properly. Your aiming is completely off the mark. The only reason you’re not any good at this is because you’re a coward; it has nothing with you being a woman. You’ve told me several times before that men and women are equal, have you not?” Duke took a couple more steps away as India’s heart rammed painfully against her chest. “I’ll see you back at the castle then.”

With that dismissal, Duke continued to stride away until his black leather jacket was no longer in sight. As each second ticked by, India stood stock still, staring at his fading figure in silence. Even when Duke had merged with the forestry, India made no move to leave or take up her gun again. His words still rung clearly in her head, the word 'coward' resonating over and over again until she felt sick. Finally, with a blazing angry fire in her eyes, India kick started her arms and threw her gun to the ground with a loud crack. Her frustrated scream echoed throughout the clearing, until she sank to her knees helplessly, head in hands, her voice returning to her second by second. India’s eyes gradually softened from rage to powerless, and her arms trembled to support her. After what seemed like eons, India managed to pull her frail body up and hoist the gun into her arms again. A determined spark glittered in her eyes, and she turned to face the sunset falling across the trees, casting long shadows in their wake. A few birds fluttered across the expanse of sky, cawing to one another in hope of a reply. Grimly, India set the rifle properly onto her shoulder, ignored her beating heart and let her eyes do the aiming for her as her hand moved in conjunction, adjusting the gun as she took fire. It took only a matter of seconds. The moment India found the correct lock, she fired, without thinking, her target a flapping bird in the distance. A ringing bang sliced through the silence as the creature uttered its last sound and fell gracefully to the earth, leaving the midst of its family and friends who flew away in fright.

India let the gun fall from her hands to land against the grass again. Watching the scene for a moment longer, a hand stretched to envelop her face, trying desperately to stem the tears that leaked from her eyes. They ran shamefully across her pale cheeks, dripping down her chin and into her black and white top. Her knees buckled so she bent down to prevent herself from falling, kneeling so her head rested in her lap, her arms wrapped around her foetal position. India cried her heart out. Never had she felt so empty, so stained and corrupted, so tainted and evil. Killing that innocent bird hadn’t brought India any of the pleasure Duke had mentioned before. Instead, emotions of regret, sorrow and guilt flooded into her mind, pushing tears into her stinging eyes and causing India to sob uncontrollably. Her lap wasn’t enough to stifle her wracked noises; her crying was the only sound that echoed throughout the clearing. Not even a bird called, nor a tree whispered. All was silent save one little girl’s misery. Finally, India’s cries gave way to breathy gasps, until they subsided altogether. Furiously she wiped her tear-streaked cheeks with long top sleeves, drying the moisture that glistened against her milky complexion. India stood up slowly, finding her balance, before grabbing her gun with shaking hands. Her eyes were averted from its long shape. She had only been touching it for five seconds, but she soon threw it to the floor again, and began to walk away steadily, her black boots crushing the long blades of grass beneath her. India had done as Duke had asked of her. Now she was going home.

[India Nightingale]

India flung open the front door. It swung forwards so wildly it smashed against the wall with a splintering bang, but she didn’t so much as wince. India was, to put it delicately, annoyed as hell, and she was in the mood to desecrate anyone who got in her way. Her black clothes were torn in places, much more shabby than when she had left the castle several hours before. Her expression one of extremely suppressed fury, India walked into the entrance hall. It was empty; not even a picture lined the walls. The entire house was devoid of such portraits, as Duke disliked the animated talking of its hosts. Although India was probably one of the only individuals appreciative of silence, right now the eeriness of the mansion caused her blood to run cold. However, her expression lingered without fail as her mind still turned with the thoughts of birds falling from the sky. Hesitantly, India’s hand reached behind her to search out the surface of the door. Finding it, she shoved it backwards, and it creaked shut slowly. Finally, the click of the bolt locking caused India to start forwards into her home, convincing her gut that the sudden chills wracking her spine were just her usual paranoia. The day’s incidents had made her weary and tired; a little mentally disturbed too, she admitted. How could she deny Duke though? She couldn’t, and India didn’t want to blame him, but the foul mood hung on as a steady reminder.

Slowly India upped the winding staircase. Her soft steps padded against the dark rug, covering a forest green carpet. Her fingers trailed the smooth wood of the banisters as she ascended, skimming them out of habit rather than safety. She reached the first floor, past the second, until she neared the third, and halted a few steps before she reached the landing. In this position India could not see Skye’s bedroom door, which was situated to the left. Stock still, she listened intently to her surroundings. Still ghostly silence filled the spaces. Somewhat unnerved that no music was floating serenely out of Skye’s room, just like when she had left, India took a cautious step forward. She approached Skye’s white-painted door and stared at it blankly. She wondered vaguely where Duke was – but somehow found she could care less, especially after today’s happenings. She had to admit she was more concerned about her sister, whom she had not spoken to or caught sight of since the night before. Not that India worried excessively about Skye if she didn’t see her for a long time, but her gut was telling her to check her out anyway; the lack of music for one was already unsettling her. Skye always had music on; she didn’t turn it off until bedtime, but even when she woke up she had it on literally straight away. India was observant like that even if she didn’t plan to be purposefully.

Lingering at the door, motionless, India decided with a frown to knock. This was a one-off action from her, but she was driven to do it. Her gut rarely gave her the wrong signs, and although she ignored it often, India did give into it now and again; Skye had always been a subject her gut liked to send feedback to her about. Usually India disliked the information that came her way… but it could not always be ignored. With a restrained sigh of frustration, India raised a hand (almost faltering and obviously reluctant) and knocked against the door. Rapping once. Rapping twice. Her cause neatly carried out, India dropped her arm quickly and waited. She didn’t expect any noisy acknowledgement for her to enter; Skye could not speak. Rather, her twin would likely come and open the door for her. However, a whole minute passed and nothing. Not a sound – not even a footstep – could be heard from within. Her frown deepening in not only irritation but slight worry, India raised her hand (more swiftly, this time) and knocked her knuckles against the smooth surface of wood again. The sounds echoed across the landing and up the stairs. The fact Duke had failed to appear from the loud noises meant his absence, which India guessed was due to work; most likely he had returned home to then leave for a night shift. He did it often, and right now she was glad of his lack of presence. However, Skye was apparently not at home either as even after the second knock no one answered. This was unexpected – India’s twin did not leave during this time of night. By the time she herself had gotten back from the fields, the sky had been almost navy from darkness. The sun had been setting rapidly across the horizon, leaving few remnants of warmth and light across the moors of Scotland.

Now properly worried but extremely annoyed too that Skye was not answering – because the stupid girl had to be home, India knew her better than anyone! – she decided to take action, whether or not her twin would come to appreciate it. With a determined frown, India grabbed the brass handle and tried to open the door. She did not expect it to be locked though, which it was. This wasn’t right; Skye didn’t lock her door either. Not because she did not fear others’ entrance – mostly likely the blonde haired girl was very terrified of Duke’s random entry – but because no one (no one being the only other two inhabitants of the castle, India and Duke) would want to walk across the divide that separated her from their world. Skye lived in a place of her own, secluded despite under the same roof. Now thoroughly alarmed and surprised, India twisted the knob several times, pushing her weight against the door before calling clearly, “Skye? It’s me. Open the door. Now!” India did not wish to speak, but at least her voice was levelled to be calm and controlled. However, a few pushes still did not bring her twin running, and now India was truly, truly frightened. Skye would not leave the castle at this time of night; moreover, Skye would not leave the castle with her door locked. Unlike India, her twin was much less suspicious, much more trusting. Stepping back, India stared at the door, before her hands searched her pockets for her wand. She had taken it out with her before, but she had forgotten all about it, lying nestled and innocent within her coat. Flourishing it at the handle with her usual determined expression, India plainly stated, “Alohomora!” The spell, aimed at the brass knob, caused it to turn and unclick loudly. Triumphant, India kept her wand in front of her, and with her free hand grasped the handle again. This time it yielded without protest, and India ventured forwards with caution.

India had not entered Skye’s room for about a year. The last time she had come here was because she was sure her twin had stolen something from her, and had stashed it in her room where she thought India wouldn’t dare come. However, India was India, and she went despite herself. Of course, Skye had never touched the blasted object… whatever it was, as she had forgotten such a petty incident. India had never found out where she had lost it. Walking into the bedroom now brought back the memories though, flooding into India’s mind like bright daylight rising to shower away the darkness. With wide eyes, she gazed in wonder round Skye’s inner sanctum. It was just how India remembered it. The sky blue walls, the beige carpet, the floral pink and purple bedspread and the pastel green curtains. Skye had always been a colourful person; she enjoyed its liveliness and vibrancy. India’s eyes landed on her violin case in the corner, the muggle CD player on the desk, the teddies below the windowsill. It was all so typical of her sister, it almost made India want to be sick; and yet, there was some comfort in its familiarity. However, Skye was nowhere to be seen, and once India remembered this, her worried feelings returned again. Where was her stupid twin? Before India could ponder this longer though, she noticed a slight, swift movement from the corner of her eye. Spinning around in alarm, her wand at the ready, India was a second too late in trying to utter a counter spell, as she was hit by one herself, and fell to the floor in a heap of unconscious darkness.

[India Nightingale]

Everything spinning, rotating, clockwise and anti-clockwise; too fast for India’s arms to even reach to grab, never mind her shaking fingers. Very, very gradually she surfaced into consciousness, her heavy eyelids fluttering open and letting in shards of bright, pure white. Her irises dilated and constricted to adjust to the large inflow of light, whilst her stiff bones cracked into action; first her left arm, then her right, before she attempted to shift her hips and legs. Everything seemed in working condition, albeit plus a little pain, her body’s signals told India. However, when she tried to lift her head off the soft pillow it was resting on, she gave a soft yelp of pain, before she collapsed down again. A sharp ache had shot through her scalp dully, the thudding of horse hooves thundering against her eardrums. She forced herself to relax as finally her eyes amended themselves accordingly, and they opened wide to survey her surroundings.

India was lying on a bed; that much she could tell from the texture under her somewhat painfully uncomfortable body. It was soft and moulded around her to maintain her body heat. The walls of the room she was situated in were a pale blue, washed like the backdrop of the skies on a beautiful summer day. India’s eyes travelled further around, observing the furniture in wide-eyed confusion and bewilderment; everything was in order and even… perfect. Books stacked to the shelves using height; the collection of teddy bears so cute and innocent. Peering over the bed to the floor, India found the carpet was a clean beige colour, and her warm duvet was in a pretty floral pattern of pinks and purples. Gazing at the window, which was shuttered with thin pale green curtains, India was thankful they were drawn because it was evidently mid-afternoon, as the sun was streaming into the room despite its blockage, and it would’ve been twice as powerful against her sensitive eyes had they not be drawn.

Still in silent astonishment, India began to gingerly sit up in the bed, groaning from the thudding in her head, that blossomed from the centre of her scalp to rub disturbingly at the edges of her temples. It niggled uncomfortably like an insect biting away, but India tried to dispel it as she forced herself to lean against the bed’s backboard. She closed her eyes again, relaxing her tense shoulders, and tried to collect her thoughts. Why was she here? How did she end up here anyway? It was all so confusing, too much to take. It was then a quiet sound alerted India to company. Joining her in the room stealthily was a man of around forty years old, but he looked a good deal young – perhaps he could even pass for being in his late twenties. As he opened the door, he saw India staring at him in bewilderment, and a look of relief crossed his face. He entered without hesitation, the door shutting behind him, and approached a withdrawing India – though there was nowhere to go, since the backboard was the furthest she could retreat.

“Shush, now.” The man said with a calming, soothing smile. He had twinkling dark brown eyes, almost black as India gazed mesmerisingly into them. His hair was dark to match, with a quite tanned complexion to complete his almost Latin appearance. He was of an athletic build, extremely tall – India guessed he was at least 6’3”, because he towered over her small, defenceless body like a monster. He cast a long shadow against the pinks and purples of the bed covers, before diminishing them by sitting down. He continued to smile, and India continued to stare. “It’s all right, my dear.” He started calmly again, reaching forward to grasp India’s hand gently in his. Despite his initial scary exterior, he was surprisingly tender, and India found herself relaxing against his touch almost at once. There was something familiar about this man, and she knew she could trust him. “How do you feel, then?” He finally asked after a short moment, gazing intently at India’s face.

India hesitated to speak. Finally, she decided to confess her mind’s thoughts, because it was imperative she get the right answer. Her tone was fearful and helpless as her fingers gripped his in desperation.

“Who… who am I?”

[India Nightingale]

India stared down at her hands fixedly. The lines across her palms melted into her pale skin as though invisible. After a good while of observing them, she looked up and surveyed her bedroom again curiously. She had no recollection of this place. None at all. This colourful room, the adorable teddies and the orderliness. Nothing struck her as familiar, nothing jumped out at her to give her memory the leap it needed in order to regain her memories. It was frustrating, so much so a deep frown was etched permanently on her face.

”Who am I?”

India’s fingers reached up gingerly to touch her face. Her clean, slender nails brushed across her cheeks, her eyes, her nose, her lips. Her body didn’t feel familiar to her; it was as though she was seeing and feeling her own skin for the first time. She hadn’t had the chance to gaze in a mirror yet to assess her appearance, but she was sure that she would find it unrecognisable too. Silently her fingers trailed to her hair and began to fiddle with it. The golden blonde locks lay limp and messy against her shoulder. From what she could gauge, it was past her shoulder, almost to her chest, and was meant to be straight, but with staying in bed for so many days in a row and having no hairbrush, she had neglected it so it was tangled.

”You’ve had a terrible accident. No fault of your own. Some spell went wrong, you were in the way…”

India let her hand fall down onto the bed again. Days and days here, still, doing nothing. It was as if time passed in slow motion, trapped in a vicious circle where every day began the same, and every night ended identical. She was tired of it. She wanted to leave this room, explore what was beyond that door. But he had told her she wasn’t allowed to, and she got the strong feeling she was meant to do what he said. She had to be obedient. Otherwise, she would be punished. Not just by him, but something might happen, he had warned. Something could go wrong if she left her bed.

”We’ll keep you here for a few tests. You should be fine in no time.”

India’s tired and wary eyes flickered shut for a few seconds, before opening again, fighting the urge to sleep for the second time that afternoon. She slept more than enough every night, but the boredom eroded at her mind. He had given her a Rubik’s Cube to play with, for her to attempt to solve the puzzle. So far she was not even close to the finish line; she had only managed to align three reds in a diagonal line on one side. The frustration of the difficult puzzle had caused her to neglect it on her bedside table, where it sat innocently, taunting her to play with it. She got the feeling she knew how to do it – she was sure she could. And yet, she could not tap into the knowledge inside her mind, just the same way she could not remember who she was, and what had happened before she had woken up here.

”You live with me here, in this castle. This is Scotland. No one else lives close by. Just us.”

At least the pain in her head had subsided. He had given her some medication and it had proved successful. India was thankful for the removal of the constant throbbing. It had rendered her fatigued and frustrated all the time; so much she found it difficult to think straight. Now she had too much time to think. She could barely face food still, had only a few sips of water a day to keep her going. He had urged her to intake more, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Something echoing distantly in her mind warned her it was the wrong thing to do. She settled down into a sleeping position again, restless but weary. Even though she had nothing to do all day, didn’t move a single inch, she still lost energy through the constant thinking. Who was she? What had she done before her memory loss?

”Your parents died when you were young, so I adopted you. We’ve been living here ever since. You’re a witch, a pureblooded one. You have magic running through your veins.”

Magic. The word resounded in India’s mind like a haunting ghost. Somehow her mind seemed to already know about its existence. She wasn’t surprised when he had drawn out a long stick of wood and proceeded to wave it at the curtains. They had flapped open neatly, letting sunshine stream in relentlessly and pierce her squinting eyes. Somehow watching the spell had given her a warm feeling her chest; a feeling of familiarity; a feeling of home… wherever that was.

”My name is Duke.”

India felt helpless and small against this world. She had been revived with basic knowledge, but no memory of people and faces; of herself, and of him. He had claimed lots of things – that he was guardian, her protector. He was basically her father, her parent. She didn’t know whether or not to believe that or not. But then he had told her something which had struck a chord within her; something that had brought life stirring from within her numb heart. It had awoken something, enough for her to believe him for now.

”And your name is Skye.”

That was the only thing that held any familiar memory to it, and she clung to it dearly. Skye.

“My name is Skye.” India whispered to herself. “My name is Skye.”

[India Nightingale]

India couldn’t take it anymore. She had to get out of this room; this pretty, adorable, organised room. She couldn’t stand it anymore, those constantly grinning teddy bears, the bright colours smiling her way, how perfect everything was. She had spent a week lying in this bed now, alone and unoccupied. It was driving her insane. She felt as if the walls were closing in on her, compressing her into pulp; she felt so trapped and claustrophobic she wanted to be sick. Maybe she would have been sick, but she physically could do no more than retch, because she had barely taken in any solid food. Only water had passed her chapped lips in the last twelve hours or so. India guessed it was twelve hours anyway; you’d think with nothing else to do she would’ve taken up keeping the time, or counting the clouds floating past her window; but no, all she had done was sit motionlessly in her bed, glassy eyes staring at the foot of her bed. The clock on her bedside table read 4:32, and it was noticeable already that evening was drawing near; the light that filtered lazily into the bedroom was gradually fading, a shadow of darkness beginning to encompass the once bright blue sky. It had been fair weather in Scotland recently, which was odd, as Duke had said they were currently in the season of winter. India didn’t dwell much on it though; after all, it wasn’t as if she could go out there and check for herself to see it if was actually as beautiful past that pane of glass. For all she knew, although the day looked fair, the truth could be extremely different; it could be chillingly cold out there. Everything could be deceiving, and for some reason India knew she knew that feeling well from a past life.

India hadn’t made any progress on her memories, which Duke had promised would in time return to her. He reassured her daily by telling her it took time; just wait and be patient. But she was sick of being patient, sick of waiting. India wanted to remember now. And why was she still in his bed? She physically felt fine, so why hadn’t she been allowed to even get up and roam the bedroom? Maybe extend a hand to feel the soft fur of those teddy bears, let her toes brush against the carpet, a finger touch that pane of glass. India wanted to feel, because right now she felt disabled, numbed from the happenings of the world. She had no physical and emotional feelings, as though someone had stopped them. Growling suddenly in frustration, India hit the back of her head against her pillow; it had long stopped aching with those repetitive thuds, and she was thankful for it. They had been painful for the first few days. She had though been experiencing a few flashbacks, a few memories somehow finding their way back to her, but none had held much recollection. They had soon faded away again, so India was left with nothing but travelling back to square one. How desperate she felt, how forlorn her hopes were. It was as though she was stretching out her hand for something with real determination and strength; she was almost there, but then the truth slips past her fingers like trying to grasp at water. It made India want to give up completely; resign herself to this endless circle of life she was living right now in this spacious, yet cold room. It was as though she, and the room itself, had lost all life.

Perhaps something clicked in India when the clock struck 6pm, because she suddenly flung her bed covers back. Resisting all her initial obedience to Duke, she gingerly drew up her feet from under the warm duvet and rested them against the plush carpet of the floor. The sensation was tickling, and India stole a harsh breath, as though she had felt it for the first time. It was like learning something she had lost. Growing more confident, she carefully stood her whole body up with the help of one hand on the bedside table. She gripped it tightly because her legs were wobbling from the exertion, having not been used for a long time, evidently. Sighing, India sat down again, before trying again with a determined look after a minute’s rest. Finally she could stand unaided, and proceeded to take a few tentative steps forward. She almost fell, her hand flailing to grasp the desk, but it was unnecessary. Her balance sorted itself out, and soon she had made her way to the shut door, wearing only a long pale purple nightgown. It was a little cold without the bed covers, so she had flung open her wardrobe and extracted an unfamiliar red cardigan. India’s fearful hand rested against the icy handle and she took a deep breath. Here goes, she thought worriedly as she tried to open the door, still determined to get out of this prison.

Surprisingly the door opened cleanly. India was somewhat shocked that Duke hadn’t locked it; he had been steadfast in his order that she should not even once leave the room. Maybe he trusted her more than she realised. India suddenly felt a pang of guilt, but quickly shoved it away. Walking out of the room, she closed the door behind her shakily, looking around the hallway. It was a big house… well, Duke had said they lived in a castle, and he wasn’t kidding. Stairs extended above and below, and staring over the banisters, India guessed there were at least two more floors down there. Looking up, she estimated a few more and her head swam with the largeness of her surroundings. Wow. Overwhelmed, it took India few moments to collect herself. Once she calmed down, she let her feet wander where they would; and they chose to go up. So up she slowly, nervously went, her steps silent in the apparently empty house. Well, Duke only checked up on India twice a day; once very early in the morning before he went to work, and before he slept, just when he got home late at night. She was pretty sure she was alone within the castle. India finally climbed to the top floor, three floors above the one she had originally come from (she had been counting meticulously), and found only a single door. Curiously, she approached it, a feeling of familiarity rising in her chest. This room would contain something she knew, India could tell. Eagerly she opened the door and stepped in, completely unprepared for the memories that would hit her once she even set eyes on the utter darkness that welcomed her.

[India Nightingale]

It was black.

Everything was completely black as night, and it wasn’t just due to how dark the room was; not only because the curtains were drawn tightly together, barring any entrance for light; not even because it was early evening and the sun was setting outside; no. It was because everything within the room was black. From the smooth, soft carpet beneath her bare toes, to the neatly laid bedspread, to the curtains that blocked the light and the furniture stoically placed around the large, spacious bedroom. Everything within it was as black as a funeral, as though a home for the dead; a place, a land which land could not possibly reach and embrace in its pure glory. This was a room of sanctity for something... for fears, for anger, for jealousies. India could feel it in her fingers, in her toes, as she gingerly stepped inside, propelled to go forward by an innate force. Something about this bedroom drew her further in, even with the heightened fear. The fact that this room had instilled in her something more powerful than anything else since she had awoken with her memories gone made her legs take those small steps. Her heart ached for something familiar, and was this it? Maybe India could find it here. Maybe this was home.

She found herself in the middle of the bedroom, and looked around in awe. It was a large room, big enough for royalty. Its ceiling was metres high, but the black walls made the space appear more constricted. The bed was a four-poster one, grand and majestic, but it seemed to not have been used for a long time. India glanced at it for a minute, and decided to approach it. Her fingers skimmed the sleek silk sheets, rubbing the dark material between her fingers and acknowledging their familiarity. She didn’t stay by the bed long, moving determinedly towards the long floor curtains which brushed the carpet. Thrusting her hand into the rich fabric, India flung one curtain aside to let pale evening light file in immediately; it was as though the room breathed a sigh of relief and satisfaction as the pale sunset basked the dark room in an ethereal glow previously absent. India stared out at the scenery, the Scottish moors Duke claimed they were in. India’s mind did not recall much about geography, but she was sure this was Scotland; the vast stretch of green pasture, barren trees still bare from the winter season. The glaring red sunset was just sinking below the horizon, desperate for its last rays of the day to make a lasting impression on the land; it cast the shadows of large, gnarled trees ominously across the earth, covered plants in a red-tinged hue. It was a breath-taking, yet painfully familiar sight.

India stared out of the large, floor-length window for at least ten long silent minutes. It took a soft noise to break her out of her reverie, and she jerked at the sound to see a tiny dark creature almost invisible against the carpet. It was a kitten – a cat, rather, it was bigger than it looked – with emerald green eyes that flashed in the dim light, and for some reason, seemed to hold so much intelligence within them as India looked down at it. The two creatures stared at one another for a minute, India feeling a familiar sensation rise in her chest. However, the memory itself stayed locked away, refusing to give her access to it. India finally bent down and reached a furtive hand out towards the cat. He – she was sure it was male – seemed hesitant at first, almost drawing back as her arm neared him. However, India’s hand eventually landed softly on his small head, carefully stroking his sleek fur. He accepted it, relaxing in her touch. India petted the cat for a few minutes, a sense of belonging in her heart, a sudden protectiveness over the little creature. Suddenly, the cat decided to move away, rising on his hind paws and padding towards the door of the room. India watched him motionless, still crouching low on the floor. When he reached the open threshold, the cat turned its head round and looked straight at India, as though speaking to her using telepathy. India straightened up, gave the cat a long, hard look, and followed it out of the bedroom.

The door clicked shut behind her.

[India Nightingale]

The cat led India down from the very top to the very bottom. It was a long journey; several flights of stairs were passed. Even though she had no idea where or what her destination was, India trusted in this creature to lead her to the right place. Maybe home? The room had provided familiarity, but no answers, leaving India sorely frustrated. Perhaps the cat could lead her to them; the answers to her many questions. The pair finally reached the ground floor, having passed the bedroom India had been housed within for a week. An eerie hallway led off to several rooms, which India assumed were living rooms, lounges. The doors were all shut, and she didn’t feel any need to explore them. She looked to the cat instead, who glanced up at her. He tilted his head and began to pad across the cold wooden floor towards a door that India had not noticed before. It was hidden behind the stairs, small and inconspicuous unless pointed out. She tried not to hiss as her toes became colder with each step; gone was the soft carpet that warmed her feet. The cat reached the door and pawed at it, looking at India again. Understanding him, she tried to open the door, and it yielded without protest. The cat slid in immediately, and India followed, a feeling of dread building in her stomach. What was beyond this threshold? Somehow she could feel her mind screaming for her not to go down there, not to find out. But, she also knew she would only remember if she walked into this darkness ahead.

And so she did. Her first step made her shudder, for her bare skin touched stone even icier than wood. The cat had almost melted away into the darkness, down a flight of stairs, but India could see his glowing green eyes up ahead and followed it like a beacon. The duo descended, India’s eyes darting nervously around the small area, wondering where they were, and looking out for danger signals. Eventually they reached another door, similar to the one from before, but this had a large padlock on it. However, the door was slightly ajar, the padlock opened. The cat halted before it, then looked up at India again, as though to say this was it. He had to stop. India frowned; she did not want to advance without his company. Somehow she felt reassured by him. But as she stared at him, she understood what he was trying to tell her using his eyes – only you can see what lies beyond this threshold. Are you ready? India involuntarily took a deep breath. She had to open this door wide and step inside. Because within she was so sure held the key to her memories, encased away in a prison, not forgotten, just not accessible. Steeling herself, fists clenched now in nervousness, India raised a hand and opened the door properly, its hinges creaking almost giving her a shock that made her jump. However, she calmed herself, buoyed a little by the cat watching her from the sidelines. She felt like he was cheering her, urging her to keep going, to fight.

India walked inside. What met her sight took her breath away immediately; it made her heart stop, but it felt like it was thudding at twice the speed. Her memory, flickering within her, a flame not yet extinguished, fighting to stay alive, suddenly burst into proper flame, erupting like a volcano. Her eyes could make out a long row of… cells. Prison cells. Holding people captive. Well, only two contained prisoners, but the first person India saw was what really made her almost faint from disbelief and shock, what made her heart falter, and her memory rekindle gradually. India was staring at a mirror image of herself. The same body structure, the same facial features, the same golden blonde hair, and oh… the same greeny-blue eyes as the mirage lifted her head to lock eyes with India. Something stirred within the girl, as though surprised and alarmed by India’s presence – her reaction was a reflection of India’s own shock. India could only stare, speechless, at this girl, in every way identical to her, lying across the floor, her back propped against the wall, hair matted and falling over her shoulders messily, hands and feet chained to stone. The silence was lifted when the girl moved a leg, and the chains chinked together loudly, echoing around the room. India flinched at the sudden noise, her breathing now laboured without her notice. She wanted to say somethin, yet couldn’t. However, the girl – the mirror image – made this task easier for her, as she chose to say the first word.

“India?”

[India Nightingale]

That was when the memories flooded back. Like a torrent of water, a surge of a waterfall, a force of nature; unstoppable and incomparable. It caused India to gasp aloud, her breaths quickening as familiar yet distant images flickered into her mind at a frightening speed, swallowing her up in its depth and vastness. Physically, she stumbled backwards as her eyes saw that identical image of herself no more; no, all her eyes could see were... memories. Yes, she knew they were memories, because as her mental mind ran their eager fingers over the moving picture frames, the snapshots, the photographs of her entire life, she could feel that these were her memories, trapped within her for so long, dying to be remembered; yes, she could recognise the familiar trace of... familiarity. These were memories that she had gathered over these past seventeen years; these were memories that had been with her since the day she had been born. India's five senses were knocked senseless from the intensity of her returning memories; from the shrill yet warm and almost forgotten sound of Skye's smiles and laughter; the sight of Duke's caring face; the taste of Alison's homemade cooking; the touch of a family's embrace; the smell of burning. Tears stung India's bright green eyes as she floundered helplessly within her mind, weak at the knees from her recollections. She wanted to pull away in fear at how intense this ride was, and yet she couldn't bring herself to; she was so weak, so scared, so cowardly. All she knew to do was to sink to the floor, legs shaking as tears ran down her cheeks buried in her lap.

"India? India?" The voice, though distant, cut through her thoughts like a sharpened knife. It made India gasp again and blearily fight her way from the heavy load of her memories and return to reality, return to this familiar voice. Why did it feel like India hadn't heard this voice in a long, long time? She didn't know, but she wanted to find out. Pushing her way out of the darkness, India eventually adjusted to her visual perception of reality again. She was still underneath the mansion - her home - in the dungeons that she had never encountered before. India sifted through her memories as her eyes landed on the identical girl again. Skye. Yes, that was her name. And her own name was India. Not Skye. Wait, why did Duke... yes, it had been Duke who had told her she was called Skye, not India. But the question quickly fled her mind when another question entered, desperate for an anwer - who was Skye again? Her twin... the twin whom she hated... the twin whom could not speak. She wasn't able to speak because of India's evilness, so why-- "India." India's head jerked up to stare into eyes so similar to hers. The girl even had the same voice. India fought back tears in those identical eyes, stood on legs the same as the other's.

"Skye." India stated rather than questioned. Her hand shook, and she folded it across her chest to grip her other arm tightly, uncut fingernails digging into cold flesh. "Skye... What...? Why...? How can you talk? I... I, what are you doing here? What are we doing here?" She took a tentative step towards her twin sister. For some reason, the hatred India once bore for Skye had suddenly evaporated; gone. Maybe it was because Skye could speak again, and India felt eradicated and relieved of the guilt she had placed on her own shoulders for almost a decade; maybe it was because of the vulnerable situation she was suffering, and the confusion of what was happening. Whatever the reason behind India's lack of hatred - a surge of love and protection towards Skye, in fact - it didn't change the fact India was horrifed her twin sister was bound and neglected in this dungeon, chained to the wall, allowing for no escape; for Christ's sake, there was even no light! How long had Skye been down here, starving, alone, scared...? India shut her eyes for a moment, feeling waves of pain and sadness - hers or Skye's? - wash over her shaking body. A long time ago, India had sworn she would protect Skye with all her power. How had she let this happen? First snatching away her ability of speech in a cruel twist of fate, and now this. Was I really that cursed? She asked herself, staring down at her hands with wide eyes. Am I really such a burden? Ill-fated?

"India..." Skye's voice rang clear again, despite being croaked and hoarse and weak, probably from dehydration, lack of liquid for many days. Suddenly, a surge of anger shot through India's body, causing her to straighten her posture and look up with a frightening glare in her eyes. She had just awoken from a long memory slumber to re-discover her identity and past, had found herself deceived, and her twin sister locked up like a criminal and treated worse, like an animal. It made India want to kill whoever had enacted such a deed upon her family; after that, she would kill herself, she didn't care. She blamed herself just as much. India was about to stumble forwards to unlock her sister, when Skye spoke again, her voice gradually becoming fainter. "India... mother... save... save our mother first..." India's eyes widened considerably, green flecks glimmering in the bare light. Had she heard her twin wrong? Was Skye going mad from lack of food and water? India shook her head and voiced her thoughts aloud, only to be rebuked by an insistent, almost desperate Skye immediately. "No! Mother! Our... our mother, India. Save her." India saw identical tears in identical eyes as she approached Skye face to face, seeing the matted blonde hair clinging to her sunken, pale face up close. Blood boiled, but India's mind remained as calm as possible as Skye tried to relate to her what she meant. "Over there... Look... It's mother..." The chained child was gesturing weakly to the other corner of the room, shrouded in black darkness. India swore she could see nothing. However, as she let her eyes familiarise themselves with the darkness, her heart almost stopped beating as her eyes registered she and Skye were definitely not the only people in the room; and Skye was not the only captive.

"...Mother?"

((Continued here.))