When I was little, I believed I could fly without a broom. My parents were always terrified, because they would find me sitting on the edge of the roof.

When I went to Hogwarts, I unknowingly commited a sin. I was unlike my loving (not) caring( not) understanding( definently not) family, was sorted into Slytherin house. I don't think my housemates were to happy about it either.

My family didn't talk to me for months. My flying delusion slowly faded away.

I had to grow up quicker that most children. I learned to keep my head down and blend in. I never spoke to others. But it wasnt like it helped very well. The only words that were spoken to me were vicious insults thrown at me from passing house mates and family.

In my second year, I quickly adopted a new delusion. I was convinced I was an iceberg. Isolated and cold.

.

The years following the tormenting got worse and worse. At home, I got beat by my brothers in the field behind our house. Those were the best parts of my summers, those were the times I could feel something.

At the beginning of my fifth year, I met a boy. He looked like a heartbreaker with his blonde hair and grey eyes. We met in the library. He found me in he corner crying with my arms covered in blood. He sat down next to me ,plucked my knife out of my hand, looked me right in the eye and said. ' Life is shit. People choose to hate those who are different from them. Me and You, we're special.' I gave him a tiny smile, and we sat there in silence for two hours.

We always hung out after that, we would walk around with each other, but rarely ever spoke. We sat outside one day staring across the lake when he said. 'Let's jump in.' Had thought he was crazy. I followed him to a big rock on the edge. We stood on top and he smiled at me. '1... 2...3 jump!'

I felt like could fly again. When we resurfaced again ,I was smiling. He grinned at me ' the most broken people have the most beautiful smiles. You know that?' And then he kissed me.

That summer, he died. His father had beaten him to death. I remember hearing the news and crying silently so no one could hear me. I felt like a piece of me that had been put there by him had been ripped away. It reminded me of ripping off a band-aid. You always think it will be faster, but you're left with a stinging pain.

When I arrived back at school, I resumed my normal routine of blending in and it not helping. The old scar on m arms were re opened and each day became deeper and deeper.

One night I was sitting in the Astronomy Tower, I had a black eye and a cut lip. I sat near the edge but not quite on the railing.

I was thinking about everything. How the world was so cruel as to have parents abandon their child, to have people murdered in the streets. And I cried. I thought of the days when I stood on the roof dangling precariously over the edge.

And suddenly I was on the edge.

thought of the nights when I would get yelled at by my brothers about how I was worthless. I believed them. I thought of how much trouble I had caused my parents.

And then I was on the railing.

Lastly, I thought of how maybe I really could fly and just take off out of my life.

And then I jumped.