Take a knife to your wrist let the blood drip down.

Why did everyone expect her to be perfect? Lily Potter wasn't perfect. She was the baby of the family adored and spoiled. She had never heard a word against her until she went to Hogwarts, where she was greeted with a whisper of who is that kid, she's so fat.

She tried to fit. She got new shoes, she got the best broom that money could buy, she got new clothes. Yet she still had rumors follow her.

"She's such a slut."

"She should kill herself; she's nothing like her brothers."

Her brothers, her brothers were perfect. James, the brave, brave Gryffindor, with a charming smile, and the best chaser Hogwarts had seen in years. Every girl wanted to date him, every boy wanted to be him. And Albus, the Ravenclaw genius, the boy who wouldn't mind if you came crying to him, the boy who was always willing to help, the boy who wrote songs and poetry for his girlfriend, that sweet sensitive boy every girl wants.

But Lily was the Hufflepuff. She was happy as a Puff, but no one was happy with her being a Puff. Lily was too "fat" to fit in with her class. She wasn't smart enough to be considered a nerd, wasn't sporty enough to get on the quidditch team, and yet she wasn't nice enough to be a Puff.

Don't get me wrong the Puffs accepted her, and they tried talking to her, but they had very little in common, and soon Lily Potter was what everyone feared that they would someday become, an outcast. A 12 year old outcast.

Her cousin Hugo, though he was her friend couldn't help listen to the rumors that surrounded, and soon, the only time they would hang out was when they were in family gatherings. Plus, he was a Gryffindor, and he was popular. Everything you'd expect the son of Ron and Hermione Weasley to be.

Lily, Lily, Lily tried to cope. She tried to survive, but soon the names that they had branded her with, lay permanently on her wrists.

Take a knife to your wrist let the blood drip down.