I balled up my fists and hit the brick wall with all my strength. I let out a scream of agony that thundered in the small room. Then I punched it again. Again. Again. Until my screams weren’t from despair but from the pain in my hands. My fingers were throbbing and bleeding. It hurt but I didn’t care. Why would I?
She died.
He killed her.
But really he didn’t. It's riddiculous to say he did. I know. He knows. They know.
I did.
I yelled out once more and tears flooded my eyes. I let myself fall against the wall and sobbed. Sobbed because I'd done worst than I ever tought I would.
I killed her.
Killed her.
Her.
I screamed again because It was unbearable.
She laughed and twirled around, her curly red hair bouncing off her shoulders, she smiled and I thought she was pretty, she ran with her sister, and I watched through my hair and through the bushes. She tripped and fell, her eyes started watering and I made a move to go see if she was okay, but then I stopped myself. I didn’t quite understand why until I noticed my heart beating faster at the thought of talking to them: I was scared.
That’s when I stopped breathing. My entire body was overtaken by spasms. That was the first time I’d seen her: I was five years old and scared.
And now I’m 21, she’s gone. And I’m scared. I thought. I thought he was protecting them. I thought she was safe.
Why? Why did a stupid mistake have to mess everything up. I hate myself. I hate what I am. What I was. What I did. I hate the man who pulled me into this. I loathe the man who took her away from me. I hate the man who said he was protecting them.
I despised them all. She was the only one. The only one I would’ve died for. I would’ve thrown my life away for her in a blink.
But I chose to kill her instead.
I fell to the ground and threw up. And when I stood up again, whipping my mouth. I dried my eyes. I cleaned up the mess and stopped my heart.
I washed and bandaged my hands without looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, I don’t think I could stand seeing myself. So I did the only thing I could do, I put on my coat and decided to leave my apartment.
I took a step towards the door, built a cage to put my heart in, bit my lip, killed my lasting bits of hope, put a hand on the doorknob, tore my soul apart, stepped out, and turned to stone.
I could’ve apparated, I could’ve used the floo, a portkey or even a car. But I walked. I walked, and walked and walked until I found it. I walked around felt the breeze on my skin, and walked to a small bush in the corner of the park. I sat against it, closed my eyes, and for a moment, I almost saw her. Moments passed, my eyes remained closed, time ticked by I felt almost immune to it. And then I thought I saw her eyes. A flash of green in front of me.
I heard her laugh. But it was wrong. It didn’t sound like her… it sounded almost like him. But I didn’t want to think about him. Or even her. I felt like going home and forgetting everything. So I fluttered my eyelids open and saw a group of teenage boys flashing a green pointer in my eyes.
“Hey guys, it’s a hobo!” said the one holding the pointer, they all laughed. One of them was more at the side and threw a cigarette on the ground, then shoved his hand through his hair with a cocky smile.
Just like he did.
“Let’s teach him that this is our place. No hobos allowed.” He said, and the one with the flashlight snickered. And threw me a kick in the stomach. The others quickly imitated him. They were just kids. Just stupid, muggle kids. I could take them. I could knock them out or even kill them if I wanted to. But I let them hit me. Because I knew if they killed me, then I wouldn’t have to face this guilt.
Everything went black and I let myself hope it would stay that way.
But it didn’t, because the next day,
I woke up…
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! Please leave me a review! I'm always so happy to get them! :)
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