She never would have seen it coming. But she should have. Deep inside, she had known. She should have seen it coming. Now. Now, she was dying inside.
She was running away from destiny, chasing her past.
Once, she had had it all.
He screamed after her, telling her to flee.
He was always telling her to run.
Once, she had it all.
Now, she looked into a pair of wide green eyes, and an open mouth. Her baby was screaming silently. As though under a spell, but she knew he wasn't. He felt as she did, as though the emotions were emanating from her body. But he knew also, as she did, that he could not move, or make a noise. Harry, baby. Harry, her baby. How could this happen to us? He was looking back at her. He was his father. He was her. He was Sirius and Remus and Marlene and Alice, and everyone else she knew. She even saw a bit of Dumbledore's wisdom in his young green eyes.
Once, Lily Evans had held the world in her hands.
Now, she had nothing.
She saw brilliant flashes of green, reflecting in Harry's eyes – her eyes. She saw the light under the crack beneath the door. She heard a body fall to the floor.
Once, she had everything.
Now, she had no one.
A cold, high-pitched laugh reached into her, twisting her heart, ripping it out to throw it to the ground and let it bleed, writhing on the floor.
She held her life in her hands, because now, he was all that mattered.
Oh god, dear god, just let him be safe.
He was all she had left, of what had once been the world.
She was dead before Voldemort reached her,
She was dead the moment James' body had fallen upon the floor.
That moment, she had died. Inside.
She remained in her physical state, only to lay a goodbye kiss in the middle of her son's forehead, and to apologize to his, in soft tones, because she would never be the mother he needed. The mother she had wanted to be. She had been able to save nothing, and now she would fight for his life, because he was the only thing she wanted to fight for.
She was dead before he got to her, but she stood her ground.
Her baby, who would never be hers', lay behind her.
Her husband, who had been everything, lay dead in the living room.
It was funny how it ended. It was sad.
It was terrible
It was fate.
And she was dead.
Once, she had everything,
Now, she had nothing
Once, she was loved by everyone,
Now, she had no one.
And she was dead, inside.