This is just a short paragraph of what George might have gone through after losing Fred.
I most obviously don't hold any credit to the Harry Potter series, all credit of that goes to J.K Rowling. Although, reviews would be highly appreciated.
I sit here, doing nothing, not having the will to do anything. Remembering every memory, every moment. These memories should have never existed, because now all they do is grief, the sadness that is constantly stabbing your chest to an unbearable point. To the point of living is almost gone,faded.
Because it was taken from me, he took it , leaving me to drown in the grief that surounds me as if it is a heavy liquid, chocking me, leaving me sinking further into its depths. I am gone, I can't, he took it with him, he took me, all I am is with him.
I lay down not willing to do much but stare blankly into nothing. I don't want to think or do anything at all, everything is just a reminder tugging at the edge of my head.
I don't want to face what downstairs holds, because all that is down there is sadness lingering on the faces of whom I see ,and every time they see me my mom just trys to hard to hold back the tears the hang on to her bottom eyelid, only because when she sees me , she sees what is lost and cannot be given back.
I get of his bed to go to the mirror barely being able to even look at the face that belonged to my brother, to mirror of why I grieve , the thing that just blinks back a image of my lost brother, just a reflection. It doesn't work, he's not able to speak back. He never will be.
Thanks for reading.