A/N: Heh, writers block. Ya gotta do SOMETHING to escape! Umm…. A short fic, might be continued if I actually get reviews. By the way, I dont own the characters, or even the plot really (Tadariada gave me the idea). Warner brothers (damn them, JK Rowling was better) owns Harry Potter and Co.
Ron sat alone in a compartment of the Hogwarts express, hoping Harry and Hermione wouldn't figure out that he was there yet. He glared at his wrists, as if the answers to all his troubles were there. A loud slamming interrupted him as Pansy Parkinson entered, presumably looking for Malfoy. "What's that, Ron? Oh, shock me, shock me with your deviant behavior. You tried to kill yourself, didn't you?" Pansy Parkinson sneered.
"Good job, Pansy. I swear you get smarter the shorter your skirt gets." Ron sneered right back, jerking his robes down over the vaguely bloodstained bandages on his wrist. He turned away, glowering at the floor now, and she left when she figured that he was completely ignoring her. Harry or Hermione didn't catch up with him until he got of the train.
"Oy, Ron!" He heard someone calling him and paused momentarily. It was Harry and Hermione. His moment of weakness had allowed them to catch up to him.
"Ron, please tell me it isn't true…" Hermione pleaded. "You couldn't have done that to yourself. Please, no…"
Ron looked away and got into a carriage, Harry and Hermione right behind him.
"So…" Harry pressed, "Is it true?" Ron snapped at these words.
"Of course it's true!" He cried, wrenching back his sleeves. "SEE?! It's all true. Every word. Ron Weasley, with no problems, tried to KILL himself!'' at this he tore the bandages off his arms, exposing two crimson lines across his wrists. The cut on the left was neat and clean, cut in an almost unnaturally straight line, but the one on the left was jagged and chaotic, as if Ron had panicked. "Hey- Let's all gape at my goddamn cuts!"
"But why, Ron, why?" Harry looked remorseful.
"Why not? It's not like anyone would miss me, would they. I'm always being overshadowed, damn it! Why can no one see that? Fred and George, the best liked brothers ever. Perfect Percy. Famous Harry Potter. Know-it-all Hermione. And even my little sister. The only girl in the family." Hermione burst into tears.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Ron sits all alone, turning a shining knife over and over in his hands. He moans quietly. I won't be overshadowed this time, he thought with a kind of malicious irony. No, I'll be Ron Weasley, the boy that no one noticed until he had killed himself. They will feel so guilty. He slipped back the sleeve of his robes and gripped the dull kitchen knife. His head spins. The Muggle sleeping pills, he presumes. Closing his eyes, he placed the knife against his wrist. He waits for an eternal moment, and then presses down. He openes his eyes and saw the scarlet blood rushing from the wound. Oh, God, it hurt. But the pain would be over soon. He hurried to gash the other wrist. The life was flowing out of his veins, and he lay back with a final peace.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Ron sat alone in a compartment of the Hogwarts express, hoping Harry and Hermione wouldn't figure out that he was there yet. He glared at his wrists, as if the answers to all his troubles were there. A loud slamming interrupted him as Pansy Parkinson entered, presumably looking for Malfoy. "What's that, Ron? Oh, shock me, shock me with your deviant behavior. You tried to kill yourself, didn't you?" Pansy Parkinson sneered.
"Good job, Pansy. I swear you get smarter the shorter your skirt gets." Ron sneered right back, jerking his robes down over the vaguely bloodstained bandages on his wrist. He turned away, glowering at the floor now, and she left when she figured that he was completely ignoring her. Harry or Hermione didn't catch up with him until he got of the train.
"Oy, Ron!" He heard someone calling him and paused momentarily. It was Harry and Hermione. His moment of weakness had allowed them to catch up to him.
"Ron, please tell me it isn't true…" Hermione pleaded. "You couldn't have done that to yourself. Please, no…"
Ron looked away and got into a carriage, Harry and Hermione right behind him.
"So…" Harry pressed, "Is it true?" Ron snapped at these words.
"Of course it's true!" He cried, wrenching back his sleeves. "SEE?! It's all true. Every word. Ron Weasley, with no problems, tried to KILL himself!'' at this he tore the bandages off his arms, exposing two crimson lines across his wrists. The cut on the left was neat and clean, cut in an almost unnaturally straight line, but the one on the left was jagged and chaotic, as if Ron had panicked. "Hey- Let's all gape at my goddamn cuts!"
"But why, Ron, why?" Harry looked remorseful.
"Why not? It's not like anyone would miss me, would they. I'm always being overshadowed, damn it! Why can no one see that? Fred and George, the best liked brothers ever. Perfect Percy. Famous Harry Potter. Know-it-all Hermione. And even my little sister. The only girl in the family." Hermione burst into tears.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Ron sits all alone, turning a shining knife over and over in his hands. He moans quietly. I won't be overshadowed this time, he thought with a kind of malicious irony. No, I'll be Ron Weasley, the boy that no one noticed until he had killed himself. They will feel so guilty. He slipped back the sleeve of his robes and gripped the dull kitchen knife. His head spins. The Muggle sleeping pills, he presumes. Closing his eyes, he placed the knife against his wrist. He waits for an eternal moment, and then presses down. He openes his eyes and saw the scarlet blood rushing from the wound. Oh, God, it hurt. But the pain would be over soon. He hurried to gash the other wrist. The life was flowing out of his veins, and he lay back with a final peace.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
