For the Woman in Black challenge on HPFC, this is my Lucy Weasley fic, read the posted 'i watched her break' companion with Mollyii, I present, 'she watched me shatter' And in fabu second person and everything. It involves hinted lucyroxanne.

You're a right mess, and you know it, don't you?

You distract yourself with handsome blonde - brown - black, whatever, haired boys, your little toys to distract you from the beautiful (ly related) girl in the corner, with her gorgeous blue eyes and the horrendous fact she's straight.

You're sick of this terrible pattern, but it doesn't ever seem like it's going to stop.

Molly notices.

Help!, you want to scream. Save me, Molly! The words shove themselves back down her throat, not letting themselves erupt from your ruby red, painted on smile.

You're in love with Roxanne, who's a) straight, b) your cousin, and c) hates you. Molly sees you needing help, but won't give it. And you have a hundred boytoys who don't really give a hot damn about you.

(oh, what tangled webs we weave.)

You slip one day, and get a cut on your porcelain white skin.

You may have whimpered, or you might not have, but it doesn't really matter, 'cause you were all alone at home that day.

First you feel pain, and shock, and then, nothing. Nothing at all.

You glance at the little droplet of blood leaking out, reflecting your wide blue eyes and heart shaped face in all the different hues of red.

"It's so pretty!" You whisper delightfully, before clamping your painted on mouth shut. You're just a bit confused, because, blood wasn't supposed to be pretty, you know that.

But this droplet leaking from your arm, it isn't pretty. It's beautiful, with it's shades and hues, and red on porcelain white, what a gorgeous contrast, no?

You wrap up your arm, and the casual scar on it.

You smile and you might've whispered, beautiful, or maybe you didn't.

It's beauty in a raw, unchanged form, unaffected by the ever changing, fast paced world, so unlike you. You let the world shape you, shape your ruined life, shape how you act and think and do.

How pretty.

You pick up the shards of vase, and figure out the sharpest.

You grimace slightly as the pain floods your left arm, and beautiful beads of perfect red slide down your arm.

Beautiful.

So you blare your muggle rock rebellion, echoing throughout the (empty again- mum and dad are pretending and hiding like children again)
white washed walls and have your pretty little toy boys. You wear more and more black everyday, and littering your covered up arms with new scars every day.

Broken Woman in Black, that's you.

Molly, you want to say. Mourn me when I'm gone, Molly, 'cause, Molly? I'm dying and I'm so scared, Molly. Roxanne and the world have killed me, shaped me in to this fake, plastic, girl.

Molly, I'm sorry.

This was so morbid. I love it. It's shorter than the other. *shruggles* I DISCLAIM.