The End
A story completely dedicated to Taz. It was her poem that inspired me to write this.
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The knife. I held it shakily in my hand, wanting this so desperately. It's pointy end stood in my gaze for several minutes. I was going to make this quick, I don't want to linger after my departure.
I sit here in my classroom, filled with complete doom and gloom. Stupid dungeon - never gave me any light. Every time I sat here, I felt like I didn't belong here... in this world. Every morning I woke up hoping to die. To leave this torment of a world. This was going to be that day.
They never knew. They thought they knew me. Stupid people. That Granger girl attempted to solve me. How romantic those nights were, but how she failed miserably. Only Professor Dumbledore knows. Knows my hate, depression and reasons. He pities me. Old man. He pities everyone. Why does he have to be so wise and so clever? Can't he just mind his own business?
I glance over at the knife, again, held loosely in my hands. It lies there clean, glistening fiercely against the dimly lit room. I hold it up to catch a flaw. None. The silver blade fascinates me. The way it shines - as if it were ready for my unforgivable deed - so full of malice.
I look away from the metal and think, 'What's the use of living? I'm already sinking in my own sadness and fear.' I take a deep breath and hold it. A small tear trickles down my sallow cheek and sinks into my dark robes. I let the breath go and inhale abruptly, trying to prevent the flow of tears.
I have to take my life by this brutal dagger. I cannot live like this. If I stay, people will continue to hate me. If I go, these people would have no one to hate, therefore, have no one darkening their innocent lives. I will set them free, as I will do to myself.
I notice something move from the corner of my eye. I quickly turn my head to that direction and sigh. It is only the dungeon door, it was still open and somehow softly swinging back and forth. I get up and head to the door. I look outside for any sign of life, then close it slowly.
I make sure the door is tightly shut and walk, as if in a trance, to the middle of the dank room. I am still holding the knife. I close my eyes as I tighten my grip on the handle of the knife. I can feel a layer of sweat build upon my hands. I slowly open my heavy eye lids and hold the knife from arms length, pointed edge facing my chest....
With one swift movement, I drive the stake through my heart. I let out a small yelp as I feel the cold metal dug into my chest. Such pain. So sweet. I fall to my knees, coughing dangerously. I keep the knife in my body, too frightened to release it. I begin gaping for breath. A natural reaction. I look down to my wound, and realise I will soon drown in my own blood. I will get my pleasure. Everyone's pleasure.
I watch my blood sour from the cut. I didn't know I had so much. It's thicker than mud, my blood. It's too late to love me now. Too late to help me. It pours from the very core of my body, where my neglected emotions lay.
I had nothing to gain, nothing to lose. I am not a burden to anyone, anymore. I did what I had to do. Something that would have brought peace through all our minds.
I collapse to the floor and watch as my life flashes before my eyes. So meaningless. I stare blankly at the wall. I have one more chance to save me. I can feel the weak energy left of my voice. But, no. I am not going to make the call to save me. Let me die.
This is how it had to be. I was not worth it. To save.
I notice a tall figure before me as I am about to be engulfed in darkness. Dumbledore. I ignore him and rest my watery eyes.
I leave you all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Please review! If you're gonna flame, at least tell me what I need to improve. Don't hurt my feelings. LOL!
Syn
A story completely dedicated to Taz. It was her poem that inspired me to write this.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The knife. I held it shakily in my hand, wanting this so desperately. It's pointy end stood in my gaze for several minutes. I was going to make this quick, I don't want to linger after my departure.
I sit here in my classroom, filled with complete doom and gloom. Stupid dungeon - never gave me any light. Every time I sat here, I felt like I didn't belong here... in this world. Every morning I woke up hoping to die. To leave this torment of a world. This was going to be that day.
They never knew. They thought they knew me. Stupid people. That Granger girl attempted to solve me. How romantic those nights were, but how she failed miserably. Only Professor Dumbledore knows. Knows my hate, depression and reasons. He pities me. Old man. He pities everyone. Why does he have to be so wise and so clever? Can't he just mind his own business?
I glance over at the knife, again, held loosely in my hands. It lies there clean, glistening fiercely against the dimly lit room. I hold it up to catch a flaw. None. The silver blade fascinates me. The way it shines - as if it were ready for my unforgivable deed - so full of malice.
I look away from the metal and think, 'What's the use of living? I'm already sinking in my own sadness and fear.' I take a deep breath and hold it. A small tear trickles down my sallow cheek and sinks into my dark robes. I let the breath go and inhale abruptly, trying to prevent the flow of tears.
I have to take my life by this brutal dagger. I cannot live like this. If I stay, people will continue to hate me. If I go, these people would have no one to hate, therefore, have no one darkening their innocent lives. I will set them free, as I will do to myself.
I notice something move from the corner of my eye. I quickly turn my head to that direction and sigh. It is only the dungeon door, it was still open and somehow softly swinging back and forth. I get up and head to the door. I look outside for any sign of life, then close it slowly.
I make sure the door is tightly shut and walk, as if in a trance, to the middle of the dank room. I am still holding the knife. I close my eyes as I tighten my grip on the handle of the knife. I can feel a layer of sweat build upon my hands. I slowly open my heavy eye lids and hold the knife from arms length, pointed edge facing my chest....
With one swift movement, I drive the stake through my heart. I let out a small yelp as I feel the cold metal dug into my chest. Such pain. So sweet. I fall to my knees, coughing dangerously. I keep the knife in my body, too frightened to release it. I begin gaping for breath. A natural reaction. I look down to my wound, and realise I will soon drown in my own blood. I will get my pleasure. Everyone's pleasure.
I watch my blood sour from the cut. I didn't know I had so much. It's thicker than mud, my blood. It's too late to love me now. Too late to help me. It pours from the very core of my body, where my neglected emotions lay.
I had nothing to gain, nothing to lose. I am not a burden to anyone, anymore. I did what I had to do. Something that would have brought peace through all our minds.
I collapse to the floor and watch as my life flashes before my eyes. So meaningless. I stare blankly at the wall. I have one more chance to save me. I can feel the weak energy left of my voice. But, no. I am not going to make the call to save me. Let me die.
This is how it had to be. I was not worth it. To save.
I notice a tall figure before me as I am about to be engulfed in darkness. Dumbledore. I ignore him and rest my watery eyes.
I leave you all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Please review! If you're gonna flame, at least tell me what I need to improve. Don't hurt my feelings. LOL!
Syn