I don't know how much time passed before I could look at myself in the mirror again. Everytime I accidently did so, a sharp pain shot through my chest. I would notice another striking feature that had once tied me to Fred. I tried not to talk for a while, as to not hear the voice that was so reminiscent of him resound in my head.
I know I'm selfish. I know others saw it, too. I am aware that Percy had been right next to Fred, yet I grieved for the longest time. I still grieve. I have grieved and never stopped grieving from the moment I saw his body lay still, and never move again. I had broken three mirrors to avoid looking at my reflection, back when the pain was fresh and I was hostile. I can look at myself now, but only briefly. Any longer and the pain floods back. I cannot function. I collapse in sobs and cry until there are simply no more tears left.
My curse is that my own body is a constant reminder of him.
Even after there are no tears left, I find it in myself to cry even more. Contradicting myself, as I'm crying, the second time at least, because I know Fred would want laughter and smiles. I know that he would want us to make jokes. He would want me, at least, to keep pulling pranks.
The problem is, I was only half of the ensemble.
I cannot do it myself. Any prank I attempted would be doomed to fail. I forget sometimes, that I'm alone, now. Sometimes I leave sentences unfinished, expecting a familiar voice to continue them, only to realise that I will never hear that voice again.
The night after it happened. I awoke in the middle of the night, thinking it to have been some sort of horrible nightmare, but when I turned to recount it to Fred, and maybe laugh about it with him afterwards, he wasn't there. There were only sheets and air.
What I would give to speak to him one last time, to let him know that I truly loved him. It was something that we never said while he was living. It seemed to be implied, something that we both knew without it being said, yet we should've said it more. It would be invaluable, just to have been able to give him a proper goodbye. Just to have been able to hug him and tell him I loved him and maybe shed some tears while I told him how much I'd miss him. I would have given anything to be able to do that. But I can't say anything to him now.
There have been times that I have thought of wonderful pranks to pull on family members, visiting from distant places. I have turned in excitement to share the scheme with him, and everything hits again.
Fred is not here. He will not be here. He will never be here again. He is dead. He is gone. He is buried somewhere in the dirt, and you will never see him again. You will never hear his voice again. You will never laugh with him again. You are not a twin anymore, you are just you, and Fred and George are no more. There is only George.
I do not remember crying when Fred was alive. All my life, I was ensured the security of having someone be with me. I was never forced to endure loneliness, and maybe that was why his death hit me so badly. My partner had died. The one who had always stayed with me, was gone, vanished. I was, for the first time in my life, truly alone.
It was a revelation for me. I would have to convey my thoughts without help from someone else. My sentences would not be finished unless I finished them. I would have to initiate pranks myself, without relying on Fred to gather the supplies or set them in place. I would have to find my way all by myself.
It is a desolate and sorrowfilled thing, to be alone.
But I shall try.