This story is just basically something I threw together quickly his morning by watching a sad movie and being in a depressed state today. Sorry. Of course, it's implied Draco/Hermione, but I felt that names weren't necessary.
Disclaimer: I only use existing characters for my own sick and twisted pleasures. They are owned by the wonderful JK Rowling, not me. I only dream.
Ghosts
She took everything out of her pantry and began to rip open all sorts of bags and cans. Everything she could get her hands on, she ate them and tore them apart with her teeth. She ate fast because she reasoned that the faster she ate, the easier the rest would be pushed to the depths of her stomach.
Once she became full, she just kept on eating. She ate so much that she ignored the signals from her stomach because if she could feel the pain in her stomach than she would realize she could feel again and that would just provoke sadness she couldn't handle.
All chips had been gone and the packs of crackers somehow disappeared and then once the fact of what she had done became noticed in her mind, the feeling of sickness grew in her abdomen.
But a few seconds of thought passed before she ignored her stomach and a pain deeper than skin and organs and far from grasp became noticeable.
It was a pain she didn't want to feel anymore and had succeeded in pushing far away.
Memories flooded her mind of a time where she knew more emotions than sadness and guilt and doubt. The lingering ghosts of needy kisses and sloppy touches evoked strange sharp pains and she could barely take it anymore.
Her eyes became fixated on the depressing Christmas tree standing chaotically in her living room. And every time she looked at it, a sensation of an unrecognizable place clouded her mind. It never looked the same each time, as if a ghost had moved the empty looking ornaments and mindlessly blinking lights, trying to mock her memory.
But her memory was fine because she remembered a time when love wasn't something chaste but something her very being craved and when love was indeed overshadowed by lust at times.
And the memory of those nights was the very thing that brought her back to reality and her stomach did a flip.
She rushed to the toilet and threw everything up that had been forced into her stomach. Her eyes had been forced to stay shut because measuring what she had done would make her sick again. But she sat there on the harsh cold tiles while she felt the white walls seem to shrink around her.
Ghosts, they all seemed to haunt her very existence. Most nights, she would take notice of reverberating footsteps outside her door, but she wouldn't ignore them. No, she wanted to hear things of the past. She wanted to live in a time where the only person who saw her as someone else actually breathed the same air as she did.
But all she had were ghosts.