The silence was murder. No ehcos, no voices, nothing. Hermione was surrounded in silence and pure white, endless white. Shutting her eyes, flashes of red and green sparks and strikes blinked rapidly behind her eyelids, The War. Hermione couldnt recall much other then colors and incomplete images. She couldnt remember names or faces, friends or foes, all she knew was her first name, and nothing else. She was filled with guilt though, and sadness. Nothing made sense to her, it was all imaginary. In this dark abiss where she resides, made by her hallow mind., all alone and empty. Was this what real life was like? In her world it would be forever night and she would escape the confides of this room. Why would her mind lock her away and not even allow her to move? She was bound, that was another obvious detail she realized. Surrounded by white and inbound? HELP, she wanted to scream, she wanted to beg, panic swept in and Hermione was scared. Of nothing, of everything, answers and questions.
Nothing was sane, not when your alone. Your mind is unleased and nobody can trap it. It's seen freedom, tasted what its like to be unraveled. Hermione giggled, and this time she heard herself, unlike before when she was trying to scream. The giggling increased as more thoughts worked there way into her open mind. Shireking with laughter, she tossed and turned trying to get out so she could paint. She needed to paint.
Hermione's eyes shot open, paint, she needed to paint. Quick thinking she drew her mouth open and chomped down on to her lip, instantly causing a blood flow. She continued to tear at the skin, ignoring the pain that was beginning to numb, but enjoying the painting she was doing. Haulting for a moment to feel the blood slipping down her chin and down her neck. It was almost making a necklace the way it formed around her neck so silk like. The pleasure of this made her squrim. Hermione continued till she was dizzy. Her head was swimming and she felt like she was floating. She slowly drifted to unconsciousness, grinning in her sleep, a chesire cat grin.
"Dr. Longbottom! Patient 4 in room B, shes had...she had an incident." A nurse ran though the corridors, tagging along .
Neville Longbottom ran into the room where he found a blook soaked unconscious young lady. Her newly cut, brown pixie cut was trenced with her own blood, that apeared to be from her lip, since the blood was still seeping.
Suddenly filled with a rage at the state of a former friend, he shouted at the nurse to know whos patient this was, Mr. Barro's. Deciding quickly, he's taking matters into his own hands from there.
So if you read any of my other stories, im really poor at finishing them, this could be another one where i cant finish it. im in the middle of writing a novel and i hit a block, so this came to me randomly. i may come to a block in this too and i might give it up, please dont hate me .. Also sorry its so short, ill start writing as soon as possible. Also i deleted my unfinished ones because i moved and i already started the chapters on the old computer, and i just couldnt bring my slef to rewrite them or sometthing. so im sorry again. They may also be misspellings, or wrong capitalization. im doing all this on a really crappy laptop that refuse to auto correct me properly. its also damn late, later chapters will be so much better [[i hope]] Please Review.