I saved all their sorry asses from the most evil wizard of all time. And what do I get in return? A shitty old shack. I'm Harry James Potter. It has been six years since I defeated the most powerful dark wizard of all times. This is my story. The reason I am sitting here now with a knife against my wrist.
"Avada Kadavra!" The green light flew from my hands into the wand and straight into Voldemorts heart. The sickly man with the snakes face looked stunned as he fell to the ground in a lifeless lump. Nobody dared to speak thinking he would jump up any moment now. But nothing happened. I stood there not believing that I had really done it. I had really killed him! I cautiously walked over and pushed his body with the toe of my boot. Nothing. Everyone stared and then they all ran off to find their loved ones. But I had no family. I stood there in shock. Not a single person came to see me. All these years I had this fantasy. If I could kill Voldemort then everything would be alright again. I would magically have a family agai,. Ginny would like me. But no I was used, betrayed. I was just a spokesperson. The one who would do all the dirty work. Then no one would have any worries. Everyone would be happy again…except me.
A year or so latter it was as if everyone suddenly remembered me. I started to get owls from Hermione asking how I was. even sent a basket of food. But I didn't want sympathy. I didn't need there fake love. No. I hadn't heard from them in over a year. No way in hell were they getting me back now! They probably just needed me to kill another bad guy for them. Then what? Would they throw me in the trash yet again?
A year or so later I was looking at the mail. But what I saw broke my heart. There in the "Newly Wed" section was the beaming face of Ginerva Weasley, wrapped up in some man's arms. And that was when I broke. The tears I had been holding back for the past three years flowed down my cheeks in an endless river. Anything I could find I threw at the wall. Smashing three quarters of my home. But that wasn't enough. When I saw the steak knife on the kitchen counter I immediately knew what to do. I grabbed the knife and sat on the couch. I viciously slashed the knife across my wrist sending a stream of vibrantly red blood up to my skin. But that didn't matter to me. The pain sent away all of the other emotions swirling through my mind. All thoughts of Ginny where vanquished from my head.
I continued this routine whenever I felt like the world was on my shoulders. But I had never really finished the job…...
And now here I am sitting on the floor ready to finish what I started. I looked at my arms. You could barely see any of skin that had palled from years of staying inside. Red scars covered all of my right arm and most of my left. And then I picked up the knife and sent it crashing into my flesh…