Two. That number used to set his heart ablaze with joy. Two. The number
described his whole life; it was what made him unique. Two. It reminded
him of every moment of perfect bliss... His life had been as perfect as it
could be. Two days ago, all that was taken away from him in a flash of
green. Two. Now the number filled him with pain, pain beyond any
description. He felt a part of himself die two days ago; he felt the
weight of George's death choking him.
There are some things people can do to push others over the edge. Fred now found himself at the edge of the world, barely hanging on. He had not eaten or slept for two days now. He lay on the bed with his eyes shut, trying not to sleep because he was afraid of the memories that would come to him. For him, there was one choice left to make, and that was whether he wanted to live in pain or to die knowing that George was waiting for him on the other side.
The sun had now come up, and it was now peeking at Fred from the open window of the motel. Fred cursed. It was another day without dear, beloved George. He felt hot tears trickle down onto the pillow. If it was that painful, then why doesn't he just bloody end it? There is no point in living. No point in causing himself that much pain when he could be happy with George on the other side.
So... he made his decision. But for now, sleep was more inviting. Just one last dream before...
**
Fred moaned, and tried to open his eyes but found that it was glued shut with salt crystals. Slowly, he stretched and tried to find the way to the bathroom with his hands. It took him a while, but he managed. He washed his face, and in the process melted the salt crystals. He opened his eyes, and stared for a moment at the mirror. George? No, of course it wasn't George. He was going insane.
Now he turned his thoughts to the decision he had made. It was time. How could a wizard kill himself? Well, maybe one of the Unforgivable Curses will work. First, he needed his wand. Where had he left it?
After rummaging through all his stuff, which was just a small muggle gym bag, he still could not find his wand. Fred tried to remember, but all he could come up with was memories of the news of George's death.
Suddenly his stomach gave a deep rumbling and his knees buckled under his own weight. He went and sat in a dirty, squashy chair by the door. He rubbed his temples and tried to devise a plan. What can a wizard do without a wand? He didn't know and besides it hurt his brain to think so hard. He finally decided he would go and have a last meal at some random restaurant.
As he sat on a bench in a park wolfing down his hamburger, fries, and a chocolate shake, he couldn't help but remember the times when he and George had traveled around the world to taste the food in various places. Escargot had turned out to be some fancy muggle name for cooked snails, and then they had a wizard delicacy that was actually some kind of poisonous creature. Oh, it was so wonderful traveling with George. I just wish he were here right now.
Just as he thought that, a memory from their second year at Hogwarts came to him. It was the weekends and the Weasley twins were out hunting for new escape routes and hiding places. There was a fork in the path, and they decided to split up. According to their calculations, they should end up at the same place, but something had attacked George along the way.
As George lay in the hospital wing, Fred had been so worried. It was a month without George, and Fred was miserable. It was during that month that a horrible thought occurred to Fred. What if one of them died and left the other one behind? What would happen then?
"George?"
"Hmm?" George said unconcernedly as he reached into a box of chocolate frogs that Fred had bought him.
"I was just wondering about what would happen if ... if say one of us died first..." Fred looked away.
"Have a frog." George threw a chocolate frog to him.
"No, I'm serious... what would happen?" Fred was slowly unwrapping the frog to avoid looking at George.
"Well... I suppose dying is like... like an adventure." George chewed thoughtfully. "How's this? I promise that if I go first, I'll wait for you on the other side, and you promise to do the same for me. That way we'll go on the adventure together."
"Alright then. I promise to wait on the other side if I go first, no matter how long it takes." Just then Nearly- Headless Nick passed through the door, looking confused. He muttered something under his breath and apologized to Madam Pomfrey. Obviously Peeves had been chasing him...
"George? What do you think of becoming ghosts? That way we'll never leave each other." Fred looked anxious.
"Look, I don't know what's gotten into your head or what you've been drinking, but we are only 12! No one is going to die for quite a while. Now, as for becoming ghosts, look behind you."
Fred turned around. Nearly-Headless Nick was looking tearful with his head wobbling unstably. "Ahhh, hospitals... I wish they could fix my neck, so I don't get to be a laughingstock forever." He sniffed airily. "Being a ghost gets tiresome..."
Little did George know that in nine years, what Fred feared most had come true. Fred wiped away the hot tears oozing out of the corner of his puffy eyes. Now that his stomach was satisfied, he would try to devise another plan. A wizard without a wand is almost like a muggle, so ... how do muggles attempt to kill themselves? Lets see, there's hanging, little bottles of poisonous pills, and then something that rhymed with fun. Bun? No... Dun? No... Aha, gun!
He would go get a gun, and then... the plan clicked into place. Fred preferred a quick and painless way because he had already suffered too much. Where do you get one of those gun thingies anyways? Hmmm...
Fred had asked a large burley man on a motorcycle, and the man had directed him to something called a pawnshop. He went in and asked the man at the front counter if he could buy a gun.
"What kind of gun, young sir?"
"Any kind will do, how 'bout a small one?" Fred said uncomfortably.
"Ok, well... I need your ID, and hold on. Lemme go get some paper work for ya to fill out."
ID's and paper work? What was he talking about? Muggles are so confusing sometimes.
Fred left. In the muggle movies he saw, the "bad guys" had walked in the bought the guns in a snap. Oh, well... Just then, a sign caught his eye.
It read: ...Sale...GUN
Now that's what he was looking for. He ran across the street, and tore open the door of the store. How strange? These things look like toys for small children. Muggles are so disorganized. Who knew a gun would be in here?
There was a sweet little lady at front counter, and she asked what he wanted.
"A gun." He said breathlessly.
"Sure thing, sweet pea. What color?" She smiled kindly but then gave him a queer look.
"Uhhh... any color." He never knew that guns came in color; all the ones he's seen were black.
She took out a neon green gun and wrapped it for him. He gave her more than enough of the muggle money, and said keep the change. He was so relieved that she didn't ask him for ID's.
He sprinted all the way to the motel, and flopped onto his bed. He needed to get this over with. He loaded the gun with the bullets that were also matching neon green. He placed the gun at his temple and murmured a farewell to the world. He pulled the trigger, and something hit him.
There were neon-colored stars dancing in his vision... I'm coming, George!
There are some things people can do to push others over the edge. Fred now found himself at the edge of the world, barely hanging on. He had not eaten or slept for two days now. He lay on the bed with his eyes shut, trying not to sleep because he was afraid of the memories that would come to him. For him, there was one choice left to make, and that was whether he wanted to live in pain or to die knowing that George was waiting for him on the other side.
The sun had now come up, and it was now peeking at Fred from the open window of the motel. Fred cursed. It was another day without dear, beloved George. He felt hot tears trickle down onto the pillow. If it was that painful, then why doesn't he just bloody end it? There is no point in living. No point in causing himself that much pain when he could be happy with George on the other side.
So... he made his decision. But for now, sleep was more inviting. Just one last dream before...
**
Fred moaned, and tried to open his eyes but found that it was glued shut with salt crystals. Slowly, he stretched and tried to find the way to the bathroom with his hands. It took him a while, but he managed. He washed his face, and in the process melted the salt crystals. He opened his eyes, and stared for a moment at the mirror. George? No, of course it wasn't George. He was going insane.
Now he turned his thoughts to the decision he had made. It was time. How could a wizard kill himself? Well, maybe one of the Unforgivable Curses will work. First, he needed his wand. Where had he left it?
After rummaging through all his stuff, which was just a small muggle gym bag, he still could not find his wand. Fred tried to remember, but all he could come up with was memories of the news of George's death.
Suddenly his stomach gave a deep rumbling and his knees buckled under his own weight. He went and sat in a dirty, squashy chair by the door. He rubbed his temples and tried to devise a plan. What can a wizard do without a wand? He didn't know and besides it hurt his brain to think so hard. He finally decided he would go and have a last meal at some random restaurant.
As he sat on a bench in a park wolfing down his hamburger, fries, and a chocolate shake, he couldn't help but remember the times when he and George had traveled around the world to taste the food in various places. Escargot had turned out to be some fancy muggle name for cooked snails, and then they had a wizard delicacy that was actually some kind of poisonous creature. Oh, it was so wonderful traveling with George. I just wish he were here right now.
Just as he thought that, a memory from their second year at Hogwarts came to him. It was the weekends and the Weasley twins were out hunting for new escape routes and hiding places. There was a fork in the path, and they decided to split up. According to their calculations, they should end up at the same place, but something had attacked George along the way.
As George lay in the hospital wing, Fred had been so worried. It was a month without George, and Fred was miserable. It was during that month that a horrible thought occurred to Fred. What if one of them died and left the other one behind? What would happen then?
"George?"
"Hmm?" George said unconcernedly as he reached into a box of chocolate frogs that Fred had bought him.
"I was just wondering about what would happen if ... if say one of us died first..." Fred looked away.
"Have a frog." George threw a chocolate frog to him.
"No, I'm serious... what would happen?" Fred was slowly unwrapping the frog to avoid looking at George.
"Well... I suppose dying is like... like an adventure." George chewed thoughtfully. "How's this? I promise that if I go first, I'll wait for you on the other side, and you promise to do the same for me. That way we'll go on the adventure together."
"Alright then. I promise to wait on the other side if I go first, no matter how long it takes." Just then Nearly- Headless Nick passed through the door, looking confused. He muttered something under his breath and apologized to Madam Pomfrey. Obviously Peeves had been chasing him...
"George? What do you think of becoming ghosts? That way we'll never leave each other." Fred looked anxious.
"Look, I don't know what's gotten into your head or what you've been drinking, but we are only 12! No one is going to die for quite a while. Now, as for becoming ghosts, look behind you."
Fred turned around. Nearly-Headless Nick was looking tearful with his head wobbling unstably. "Ahhh, hospitals... I wish they could fix my neck, so I don't get to be a laughingstock forever." He sniffed airily. "Being a ghost gets tiresome..."
Little did George know that in nine years, what Fred feared most had come true. Fred wiped away the hot tears oozing out of the corner of his puffy eyes. Now that his stomach was satisfied, he would try to devise another plan. A wizard without a wand is almost like a muggle, so ... how do muggles attempt to kill themselves? Lets see, there's hanging, little bottles of poisonous pills, and then something that rhymed with fun. Bun? No... Dun? No... Aha, gun!
He would go get a gun, and then... the plan clicked into place. Fred preferred a quick and painless way because he had already suffered too much. Where do you get one of those gun thingies anyways? Hmmm...
Fred had asked a large burley man on a motorcycle, and the man had directed him to something called a pawnshop. He went in and asked the man at the front counter if he could buy a gun.
"What kind of gun, young sir?"
"Any kind will do, how 'bout a small one?" Fred said uncomfortably.
"Ok, well... I need your ID, and hold on. Lemme go get some paper work for ya to fill out."
ID's and paper work? What was he talking about? Muggles are so confusing sometimes.
Fred left. In the muggle movies he saw, the "bad guys" had walked in the bought the guns in a snap. Oh, well... Just then, a sign caught his eye.
It read: ...Sale...GUN
Now that's what he was looking for. He ran across the street, and tore open the door of the store. How strange? These things look like toys for small children. Muggles are so disorganized. Who knew a gun would be in here?
There was a sweet little lady at front counter, and she asked what he wanted.
"A gun." He said breathlessly.
"Sure thing, sweet pea. What color?" She smiled kindly but then gave him a queer look.
"Uhhh... any color." He never knew that guns came in color; all the ones he's seen were black.
She took out a neon green gun and wrapped it for him. He gave her more than enough of the muggle money, and said keep the change. He was so relieved that she didn't ask him for ID's.
He sprinted all the way to the motel, and flopped onto his bed. He needed to get this over with. He loaded the gun with the bullets that were also matching neon green. He placed the gun at his temple and murmured a farewell to the world. He pulled the trigger, and something hit him.
There were neon-colored stars dancing in his vision... I'm coming, George!
