Between Love and Disease

Summary: Rules are made to be broken and walls are made to be broken down. You can hide away your pain and scars but you will always belong to the one who contaminates you.

A/N: I'd be lying if I said I knew where I was going with this. Here is chapter one.

Diseased...

The pieces of my heart are scattered and the space in between is corrupted with disease. They are slowly inching toward each other, one last attempt to correct the damage, all efforts in vain. This heart was too full of love. This heart trusted too completely. This heart was broken far too badly for these tiny pieces to put themselves back together. They no longer belong the way they were arranged before, they should just stay where they lie. All they are doing by dragging themselves through the space is getting the disease all over themselves.

For even if somehow they manage to merge the nerves will not connect properly, the disease will spread and corrupt all parts and the heart will remain broken. The heart will disease the very blood it is trying to pump to sustain the body it beats for. All attempts to correct this damage will only result in further destruction. After a short time it will die.

When I think of how she says she never loved me I know my life is no longer worth living. When she said all I was worth was a good fuck my existance shattered. I don't know why my heart is trying to put itself back together. The disease is too contagious for me to survive. The damaged places cannot heal, they are left open to be ravaged again and again, for every single day I must see her face. Every single day I must gaze upon the girl that I loved with all of this damned heart. Sometimes she still ravages my body with her eyes. She drinks in the sight of my form and she shakes her head muttering that it's a damn shame she doesn't fuck it anymore.

I crawl inside myself every day. I try to console myself and when that does not work I try to deny it. No she never existed. No she never slid her fingers into me, never pushes more until her knuckles slid past my defenses, no she never filled me with her entire hand. This simply didn't happen, because if it did I must be dead. If I gave her all of me than I must not exist anymore, because I am no longer in possesion of myself if I gave it away... I don't even make sense to myself anymore.

My thoughts lack configuration. My heart lacks stability, my mind lacks sleep, my body is missing the lavish nourishment it is accostomed to consuming, my lips are dry from my dehydration, everything in me wants to collapse. Everything in me wants to fall into the abyss and never feel again.

Please do not mistake, I am not giving up because of a broken heart alone. I have felt the pierce of a woman tearing my heart apart before. I have pulled myself back up from the depths of just a broken heart before now. The disease, the corruption that she left to consume me, this I cannot bear. This I cannot overcome. She is everywhere. I can feel her, all over me, I am stained with her.

My body, my heart, my mind, my soul, they all have her marks upon them. I will never be able to belong to anyone else you see? I am marked as hers and everyone will know. Everyone will recognize that I am not their property to touch.

I cannot stay here. I have to go somewhere that no one knows of Pansy Parkinson. Where the scars can be explained away and I can be surrounded by people who cannot see how corrupt I really am. And yet here I am, not eating and watching her think of me. I can always tell when I am what is on her mind. I can almost hear her thoughts. I know why it is that she has forsaken me. I am the one who filled the empty diseased spaces that lay between her heart pieces. I am the substance that was able to bond the pieces back together and make them feel again... She loves me.

Hollow...

Torture is the best choice when thinking about revenge. Always let the pain increase and never ever let it end. Surely she believes that I mean it. Surely she doesn't actually see the goddamned love behind the disgusting look that I make sure to toss at her feet every day. This is what I meant to do.

I never planned on keeping her. She was good looking. She was something that I wasn't supposed to have, and as such, something that I desperatly wanted. I liked the way her lips pursed when she was reading. I liked the way her eyebrows knit in concentration while she thought. I wanted to know what else could make them do that.

I should have known better. One should never let the thing that they desire from afar become the thing that they touch for pleasure. Like a disease she filled the hollow that I work so hard to dig into my heart. Just like a disease she filled my heart with the cancer of love, and for this she must be punished. For this I cannot let the pain end for her. Why should she be allowed to fall into her quiet books while flames still lick at my body every time she passes by me?

No, that simply isn't fair. And she doesn't eat at mealtime anymore. I've noticed the subtle changes to her every day life. Her face has grown gaunt. The hollows of her cheeks somehow hollower as though the breaking of her heart has forced her cheekbones higher. She looks as though I have shot an arrow through her heart.

Part of me is angry with myself. The two sides of me disagree. One is all for the digging resumed with a new vigour, the other dead set against it.. If I empty out my heart and throw all of the feelings at her will she adopt my pain? Will she pick it up out of fear that someone else might do just that? Pick up my pain and take me as their own?

She was never meant to get into my heart this way. She was never meant to get into my mind. I shouldn't have to sit here shooting her scathing looks to make her feel my rage. I should not have to put any effort at all into hating her.

The problem is... She is mine, my property, I have marked her so. The biggest problem is that I have let her leave her mark upon me as well. She is the scar on my tissue. She is the only water that can ever put out the fire within me... she is the only one who can set the flames alight.

I am afraid that I may just love her.

A/N: I do actually plan on writing more of this. I'm hoping it won't take too long.