Note: I haven't been in the best of moods recently, so I thought writting something to let my anger seek into would be soothing. And I was right. I am debating whether this should be a chapter story or not? I have more planned if so. So, please, tell me if you'd like it to be continued. It may not be the best, but I worked hard on it. All reviews are charished and I would like to say the band Barcelona are going to be my inspiration for my next few fanfics. Anyway, please comment what you think. I try to repsonse to every review.
Brown eyes reflected back at him. Beads of sweat wetted down his out of placed hair. The brown eyes closed, as he locked the door. No one was getting in, and he would not be coming back out. He bit the inside of his cheek just hard enough to let the metallic taste of blood fill his mouth, he needed to just feel something, anything. He looked back at himself in the mirror, to see the brown eyes sheltering tears. Slick tears that leaked and stained his sweaty face. This was going to be it. Everything would be gone, poof. He'd be gone, poof. He slowly lifts his hand to touch the mirror, the feeling of the cold piece of glass on his skin. In a bizarre way, it was soothing to him. It clamed his racing heart down to a speed where he didn't have to be away of it besting out of his chest.
He took back his hand, and used it to turn on the sink. The water ran just like his tears were falling like an unstoppable waterfall. It just kept coming, falling. He gathered some water in the palms of his hand to drink water for the last time. The presence of the drink burned his chapped lips burned and stung the cut on his inner cheek, but the taste mixed in with the blood creating some sort of an electrifying hydration. His eyes bulged out of his head, showing almost every part of the red, swollen eyes, as he gulped a bit more than could pass down his throat at a time. The next several minutes contained loud hacking and coughing, which he prayed would soon subside without recognition. Last thing the needed was his mother to interrupt this moment, his moment.
Once he fully regained his breath, he took one last look at himself, who look all ready died, and opened the medicine cabinet. His eyes scanned over tiny orange bottles that contained muggle medicines, potions, and razors. If he were to take potion or medicine it would send him away fast and painless, and that idea sickened James. He wanted to suffer, cry, and pass out from it all before his body finally shut down. He wanted his family to realize just how much they put him through, and just how bad they had hurt him. They hurt him so bad that he didn't even respect them enough to leave them a letter to explain his actions. Instead, he'd just go, and only leave his bloody mess to show it all. It didn't matter what he did from this point on, he wasn't passing on to see his deceased family anyhow, and he'd end up alone where all the Death Eaters went. He would be welcomed to hell by Death to suffer for eternity, and to him, it wasn't nearly as bad as living in the place he was at now. Life was too much to bear. Life was worse than hell.
James reached out into the cabinet, and removed a razor, a brand new razor he had just brought. The razor he had been saving for this moment. He sat down, against the wall, next to the bathtub, and laid his arm against he leg, which were both shaking. James fumbles around to clasp a hold of the razor in a way that he could use it the way he wanted. Half of him was still afraid of what was happening, but the other part took control. Leaning his head back against the wall, and scrunching his face up he places the cooled metal on his skin and pulls it across his wrist first. It didn't take much to hold back any noise. It didn't hurt. It felt almost... relieving...
A twisted smirk painted it's way on his face, as he went in for his next clean cut. He took the razor straight down the middle of his wrist, crossing the other's path, spilling almost twice the blood. James let out a small gasp of pain, but was soon memorized by the trickling blood. It seemed so peaceful, right. He thought he might have fallen in love. His twisted smirk left him, and his smile, his shining smile took its place. The tears continued to silently fall, but he stayed in complete awe. He would have never imagined it'd be like this. He was still terrified of what came next, but for those remaining seconds, he was quite content with how his life was slipping away, poof.
The door handle was suddenly being shaken, which snapped James out of his peace. His eyes grew wide, as he watched the door carefully. He prayed and begged that no one would disturb him, at least until after he was past the point of saving. He didn't want to be the victim in distress, he just wanted to be gone.
"Who's in here?" Lily's voice came into earshot from the other end of the door.
James coughed to clear his throat before answering his sister. He tried to hide the fright, pain, and peace he was in. He shook his head, as he said, "James." Then, he realized just how heavy his eyelids were becoming, and rested them shut.
"Are you coming out anytime soon? You've only been in there for almost a half hour," her voice contained annoyance, though James ignored it.
"I-well- I don't feel well..." James mumbled loud enough for her to hear him. "Why does i-it matter?" He asked, getting lazy on his speech. He slurred and stuttered many words.
"Well, maybe, because I have a date in a few hours? I've only had it planned for two weeks now." She snapped. The Weasley temper was ripping out of her.
James looked down at his bleeding arm, and shut his eyes. He felt half-sorry for the girl on the other side of the door. She had never done anything to harm him, but he was still permanently deleting himself from her life. In time, he was almost sure that Al would confess all that he did wrong, and well, their dad knew bloody well what he did that messed everything up. James was going to make him suffer, he had too, and he knew this would affect his father more than anything. Harry had once James that if he were to loose one of the kids, than he wouldn't be able to stand life. Well, how was he going to feel when his own son took his own life? That would be called sweet, sweet revenge. James could taste it on his tongue.
He rose his thumb, and pressed it against the cut in hope that the pain would drain the anger that had entered his body at the thought of his father, but also the shame and guilt. He was not a good son, but he never had been. He was the one in trouble constantly, not Al. Stupid Al.
"Ah, holy crap! Shi-"
"James? Are you all right?" Lily asked, her voice heavy with worry.
He cursed under his breath, but didn't remove his thumb from the open wound. The pain, suffering, felt so nice, like it was calling his name to clear him of all his troubles. He let his head lean back, until it hit the wall behind him with a thud, which cause James to curse a few interesting words, and just stared down at the arm that he was holding in his lap. He was covered in blood, but he always enjoyed the color red, so didn't matter to him.
"James? James? Will you please answer me? Will you please get out?"
Lily's voice was now just a faint background noise to James. The blood, the fell of the wound, the shape, the hurt, the agony, the happy, the dreadful took over his body. He wasn't sure if it was legal to feel all that he was feeling at that moment in time.
"Mum, James won't get out of the bathroom!" Lily screamed down the hall.
Soon enough footsteps were walking up the hall, and there was banging on the door.
James groaned. What happened to the peace of nothing?
"James Sirius, your sister needs this bathroom. Now, young man-" Ginny yelled through the door. Apparently, someone had all ready been testing her temper, and was now taking it out on James.
"Go away." He slurred out to her, "Please..." He added quietly just to himself.
"Go away? I will not go away young man! Now, you are-" The tone of James's dying voice seemed to dawn on Ginny at the moment, because he temper seemed to be tamed quickly, and she fell silent.
After several silent moment, and several fallen tears to him. He was awakened back to reality by the sound of his mother's voice. This time, it was angry, nor was it upset. It was filled with worry, care, and love.
"Jamie, love, are you all right? Will you please open the door for me?"
The tears were falling without control. He wanted to scream no, unlock the door, and curl up in his mother's arms that were always there to protect him. What point would that prove then? That he couldn't even face himself? He was almost seventeen, he didn't need her comfort anymore, and he didn't need any help. He knew what he was doing, and he was going to do it no matter what. He didn't care for what his mother had to say.
Who was he kidding? She was the last person he wanted to hurt, and it was going to rip her to shreds... James prayed he went to hell for this that he could suffer for what he was doing. He almost hated himself, no, he did hate himself. Another reason why it was time to go...
James clutched the razor in his bloody hand, ready to make it go faster. He was ready to leave the world behind. He was ready to meet Death, or well, he kept saying that to himself. He swallowed hard, as he placed the metal almost right on top of the last vertical cut. This was going to be it. This was going to be it.
"James! James Sirius! Do you hear me?" Ginny said from the other side of the door. "If this is just a prank to make your sister late, young man, you will be in big trouble!" She yelled, her voice gathering its fire again. "Lily, go get your father. I am not dealing with this today!"
Footsteps disappeared. The razor began slicing. He let out muffled cries of pain. Everything was becoming blurry.
Footsteps returned. The doorknob was shook furiously. His head became very heavy...
"James, if you don't open this door, I will blast it down. Do you understand me?" Harry's voice came into the scene and disgust filled James.
With the little strength he had left, he dug the razor deeper into his skin, waiting to black out for the final finale. He felt as though it was playing out like a movie scene, and that made him slide the razor faster. All the perfection he was feeling merely minutes before had drained from him, and all the negative emotions took over. Fear, angst, agony, pain, suffocating, shame, jealousy, disgust.
"He hasn't been answering any of us." Ginny said furious and worried.
"I think he is trying to be funny." Lily muttered with a roll of her eyes.
"Damn it, James. This is your last-"
"C-C-Crap..." A faint whimper from James was caught by Harry, who almost froze.
Without even trying anything else, He yanked his wand out and yelled, "Alohomora!"
The door swung open, as James let out one last cry, the razor still digging through his skin.
Brown eyes met emerald eyes. So much was told by just one glance. Two gasps and cries in the background. All faded just like the original plan. Everything from that point on was just faded colors.
How did you like the ending? I like the way I ended it...
Anyway, remember to review letting me know whether to turn this into a chapter story or not. I think it'd be fun. I like writing dark stuff... If that doesn't sound weird...
Remember all reviews are charished and I try to reply to them, if you don't understand or don't like something, so I know how to fix it in my next stories.
-randomgirloutthere110
