This is rated R for a reason. If you don't belong here, leave now. I've warned you.
Beware: Very triggering material.
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. *tear* oh well.
A/N Hey. I've been very depressed lately, and I've decided that I need a way to release my anger and hurt without doing what Hermione does to herself in this story, so I'm writing this. Just bear with me. Flamers are welcome, just remember, what goes around comes around.
Letting Go
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Hermione
The razor shone in the moonlight. I used to think that I would have never given in to these feelings, I thought I was stronger than that. Apparently not. In my shaky hand the silver blade ran across my pale wrist, leaving a red slice behind. They say that physical pain takes away emotional pain, and I know that that's true. When Draco left, he hurt me so much, but I don't think he did it on purpose. He was never taught how to love, and when I confessed my feelings for him, he got scared. He ran. Blood began to drip down my arm. That's funny, it's never bled that much before. Did I go too deep? Oh well. I picked up the razor and put it on top of my wrist once again. A voice started to speak in my head. "You're stupid, you know that? What are you trying to do, kill yourself?" Maybe I was. Life was hard, unbearable. So many people would be happy if I was gone… like Draco. He wouldn't care if I were to die, would he? The razor was slicing its way through my skin now, as if it had a life of its own.
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