A/N: I'm not sure when this is supposed to take place. The word 'dead' is supposed to be loosely interpreted. Dead, in James and Lily's case, is literal. Dead, in the others, is not. Please leave a review.
Oh, and I'm not JK Rowling, though that would be amazing. So I don't own HP.
"Then you should have died! Died, rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!"
Died. Died. I should have died.
Best friends. No, not best friends, Marauders. Brothers.
James. Sirius. Remus. Me.
Unworthy. I was unworthy. Friendship, love, trust.
They trusted me. I let them down.
I killed them. Killed James, killed Lily, all with betrayal.
I know it killed Sirius and Remus too.
I should have died. Peter Pettigrew.
Not James Potter.
Not Lily Potter.
Not Sirius Black.
Not Remus Lupin.
Peter Pettigrew.
Rat. Stupid. Worthless. Scum.
I was the cowardly Gryffindor.
One of a kind, but it wasn't a good thing.
And James, he left a child, Harry, the spitting image of him.
Harry, to be raised by muggles that hated his existance.
Harry, to never know a parent's love.
It's my fault.
Betrayal. I betrayed my best friends in the worst way.
James and Lily should still be alive, I should have died.
I should have died, as they would have done for me.
Scum. All I am is scum.
Best friends.
One killed from the result of my actions.
One driven mad with his lost hopes.
One with no where left to turn, no one to help with his transformation.
One that caused all of it.
Me. Peter. Death Eater.
Death Eater. Death Eater.
It doesn't sound right.
Former Gryffindor, best friend of the father of The Chosen one, member of the Order of the Phoenix.
Death Eater.
How did this happen?
What have I done?
Coward. That's all I am.
That's all I ever will be.
Hiding in the shadow of the Dark Lord.
Why did I do this?
I should have died.
Hiding. Hiding. Hiding.
All I've done.
Hiding for what I've done.
Sirius is in Azkaban.
Azkaban, wizard prison.
Dementors. They drive you mad.
Sirius. Gone mad.
One thing we'll still have in common.
We've gone mad.
Trust. It's a valuable thing.
Broken. Found. Dead.
My fault.
I was their secret keeper.
I turned them in.
I was their secret killer.
Killers deserve to be killed.
Remus. Werewolf.
Animaguses. James, Sirius, and I.
Support Remus, our only goal.
Support Remus, we failed.
We've left Remus to hate himself.
Hate. Hate himself the way I hate myself.
Hate himself for a fate he couldn't control.
Hate. Hate. All I'm exposed to.
I don't feel hate.
Not for anyone but myself. Myself, and Voldemort.
Regret. Pain. Anger.
All I feel anymore.
Happiness. Love. Honor.
All I ever wanted to feel.
Gone. Gone. All gone.
No happiness, my happiness died with my friends in 1981.
No love, the few who loved me are gone.
Honor. No honor for cowardice.
I don't deserve it.
I never deserved it.
They deserved better.
Better than anything I've ever been.
Better than betrayal.
Disgusting. I'm disgusting.
I serve the man that murdered my friends.
I do nothing about it. Nothing.
I should have died.
I still should die.
But I wouldn't, and I won't.
Too cowardly to face death.
Too cowardly to do what I made James and Lily do.
Pathetic. I'm pathetic.
Nothing more than a worthless rat with a missing finger.
They think I'm dead.
I should be dead.
I should have died at Sirius' hand, the way they think I did.
Did I? No. I ran. I hid.
They found me, but I'm hiding again.
Hiding behind Voldemort, once again.
Sirius. Remus. Harry.
Harry, just like James.
Shreiking Shack. They found me.
They told me I should have died.
They would have for me.
But I never did for them.
The Marauders. Destroyed. Done. Dead.
The Marauders. Loved. Cared. Trusted. Brothers.
The Marauders. Betrayal. Hurt. Loss. Fell apart.
Forever. The Marauders, gone forever.
Forever. It's such a long time. It's much too long.
I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.
Our motto. Up to no good.
They always meant well by their wrongdoing.
What did I mean?
I thought I meant well, but now they're gone.
Sirius. Remus. James.
Now only Sirius, Remus, Harry.
Sirius, Remus, James, Harry, Lily.
The lives I've ruined.
Ruined by my cowardice.
Ruined by my failures.
Ruined by my fears.
Ruined by selfishness, by the worthless rat.
The worthless rat. The one that should have died.
Dying? I was afraid.
Death? I am not afraid.
I am not afraid of death, I am afraid only of what may happen.
James and Lily. Would they be there?
Would I see them?
All that's left of me is a shell.
So who am I?
Nobody. I am nothing more than the shadow of a once lucky man.
Lucky to have friends. Lucky to have love. Lucky to be in the house of the courageous.
I am nothing. I am gone.
Friends dead, love lost, courage long faded.
My soul is gone. Pure. Generous. Happy.
I lost it the night I ratted out James and Lily.
My life is gone, too. Gone like James, gone like Lily.
I lost it when I met the Dark Lord.
All I am is a servant, a nothing.
I am not Peter Pettigrew. Peter Pettigrew is dead.
I should have died, Sirius, you were right.
But what you didn't know is that I've long been dead.
I died on Halloween of 1981.
Moony and Wormtail and Padfoot and Prongs.
Marauders. Brothers.
Dead.