Warning: This is a suicide!Harry fic. So if you don't like this kind of stuff then turn back now.
Disclaimer: I do not own any character used or mentioned. If I did they'd have so many problems it would be scary.
Letting yourself go series
Part 1
Everything had become to much.
To much for a 16 year old boy.
Ever symphatic face, every false face.
The impossible expectations.
He was only 16.
Why did it always come down to him?
He did not want to be the Boy Who Lived.
He did not want to fight Voldemort, let Dumbledore do that.
He did not want the scar on his forehead.
That is why the night before Professor Snape was scheduled to bring him back to school.
He snuck down the stairs and stole one of his Uncle's hunting knives.
He couldn't do this anymore.
It wasn't hard to bring the knife across one wrist and then the other.
It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would.
Lying down on his bed, ignoring Hedwig's cries.
He let's himself bleed.
The blood spilling onto his blankets and onto the floor.
As the night passes his breathing becomes shallower and the blood soaks through the floor.
Dripping onto the kitchen table.
He doesn't regret his decision as he closes his eyes and takes his last breath.
Disclaimer: I do not own any character used or mentioned. If I did they'd have so many problems it would be scary.
Letting yourself go series
Part 1
Everything had become to much.
To much for a 16 year old boy.
Ever symphatic face, every false face.
The impossible expectations.
He was only 16.
Why did it always come down to him?
He did not want to be the Boy Who Lived.
He did not want to fight Voldemort, let Dumbledore do that.
He did not want the scar on his forehead.
That is why the night before Professor Snape was scheduled to bring him back to school.
He snuck down the stairs and stole one of his Uncle's hunting knives.
He couldn't do this anymore.
It wasn't hard to bring the knife across one wrist and then the other.
It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would.
Lying down on his bed, ignoring Hedwig's cries.
He let's himself bleed.
The blood spilling onto his blankets and onto the floor.
As the night passes his breathing becomes shallower and the blood soaks through the floor.
Dripping onto the kitchen table.
He doesn't regret his decision as he closes his eyes and takes his last breath.