Okay right we are please read and review and enjoy this:
Upon a suburban roof on a warm summers night a dark-haired boy sits. The cool breeze ruffles his messy black tresses as he raises his pale face; eyes shuttered lips pursed, ivory skin glowing in the moonlight. Sitting there, he looks so innocent and lost like a fallen angel, his ivory unblemished skin aristocratic features and slender frame. With his tresses of black framing his face perfectly embellishing perfection.
Yet when his eyes open the angelic image crumbles under their dull appearance. Eyes of what were once a bright sparkling emerald green full of laughter and amusement are no more nor is our fallen angel and angel anymore. For now the angelic beauty is stripped by the appearance of lifeless emerald eyes so dull and monotonous. All trace of motion has left these eyes as if they had never been. Beneath the eyes lie rings of deep purple mocking a face that should be so very young carefree and innocent. These rings tell of horrors witnessed, sleep lost to continues pain and torment. They add age and weariness to a face that moments ago seemed so innocently young and untroubled.
The boy turns his eyes to gaze up at the stars shining down on him so brightly as if to laugh at his suffering with their sparkling joy. He sits and gazes at them with eyes that seem to belong to a dead man or blind man for they are all glassy and the colour is dimming.
As dawn begins to break over the horizon and the suns warm rays make their way towards the roof the boy sits on, he stands holding his arms out as wide as they can go, eyes once again closed. A shadow of a smile passes his red lips briefly before his face becomes impassive once more. For a moment it appears that he will falloff the edge and the angelic beauty has retuned.
When jerkily, as though painfully he moves and clambers down from the roof seeming far older in his movements than ever before. As he goes he remembers to replace the bars on the window of his prison, which he reluctantly calls his bedroom. He walks through the cold stale room to the thin crumbling thing that serves as his bed. The nights cool refreshing breeze and suns warm rays do not reach him here.
He lays on the bed arms clasped over his chest hands linked over his heart with his long bony fingers, his lifeless eyes staring up through the ceiling – heaven-bound. The first true serene smile on his face in his entire lifetime as his head falls back and his body goes limp the smile widens and a small spark of joy flashes in those lifeless emerald eyes.
Hours later a group of people, members of the illustrious Order of the Phoenix enter the room only to stand still to gasp and weep in shock and dismay.
For there, angelic once more with a peaceful smile lies the corpse of Harry James Potter, the-boy-who-lived and Saviour of the Wizarding World in a pool of his own blood. The pale starched sheets are all stained a deep crimson of dried blood in contrast to his body which is a lighter red and still fresh with more blood slowly trickling out between his clasped fingers. Between which are still holding the blunt dagger used to pierce his own heart.
Tears flowed down the cheeks of all those present even the eyes of the stronger Order members found themselves unable to remain stoic at the sight before them. All restraint left everyone as they took in the message written in blood above the headboard like his own epitaph.
"I could not continue living this lie.
In death I will have my freedom
And happiness restored to me.
Do not weep for me for I never existed
I was but a shell for what you desired of me:
Your Saviour, Your Scapegoat,
Your Hero, Your Pawn,
Your Weapon.
In death I can now simply be me
a human being."
The tears doubled as they read and many were now sobbing hysterically and ashamedly for the words all rang true. They had never seen his as a boy or a parson with emotions and feelings. They had only ever seen the job he was to do, they had looked at him and treated him as a tool or worse a weapon. The had overlooked the signs of abuse of neglect and depression for that mattered not so long as he could move and do as he was told.
Though their own stupidity, cowardness and selfishness they had driven a barely sixteen year old to take his own life in the hopes that the afterlife would be kinder.
Far above the room amongst the stars high up in the heaven a boy with messy hair and ivory pale skin laughed and threw sticks for a lilac-eyed black dog, his eyes of emerald sparkled with delight. A woman with fiery red hair and the same eyes stood watching with a man of the same messy hair as the boy. They smiled to one another and laughed before they to joined in the game. Their family was once again complete.
The End
Hope you liked and hope it touched you seemed sadder when I thought of it than when I wrote it!