Harry chucked his photo album across the room. He didn't want to see those deep brown eyes just hidden beneath a thin curtain of fiery-red hair. He didn't want to see her pale skin, just the right shade. He never wanted to remember, but yet he did. It was all he could do now. Sure, the war was won. But why did he have to sacrifice everyone he loved? He hated living alone, with no friends now. Draco, sure enough, had switched to the 'good side' at the end. Soon enough he got killed. Hermione and Ron were killed together in their house, just because of a stupid fire-bomb. And then there was her. He couldn't say or think her name. But she had died…at his own hand. She was the last blood sacrifice needed. He could hardly send the Avada Kedavra curse at her. He couldn't bear to remember holding her hand, feeling her pure ivory skin turn cold, as if all the warmth had been sucked out of the world.
Harry had been seeing the world in shades of gray ever since. All the surviving Weasley family despised him. He lived in his small house now with no TV or radio or light. All the small things he loved were forgotten. Due to the non-living status he held, the Weasley family had made no attempt to contact. They hadn't even bothered to tell him when her funeral was. He searched around for the newest thing that had become his friend. He hid his wand as soon as he had gotten home. He wouldn't ever touch that thing again. Not when he had to commit such a horrible deed with it. He didn't bother to cry out in pain as the sharp metal bit his skin. He was used to it by now. The faded scars of his first experiences with it reminded him plenty well how bad it used to hurt. Now he just felt pleasure. It was a simple release from the world, just another thing to take his mind off everything…especially her.
As he pushed down on the cut, he had to turn away from the blood. It reminded him too much of her hair. How he hated everything colored red! And green. He can't forget how the color green looked on his angel. He had to quit thinking of her! The pleasure seeping through him and out the cut increased as he pressed down a little deeper, acting on impulse, but instead cut deeper than he expected too. Quickly, a jolt of pain rushed up his arm. The last thing he thought was "I'm going to die here, all because of this, and when I do, I'll finally be able to see my angel again." And then, right before he completely lost consciousness…a pale-skinned, tall, red-haired boy walked through the door.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next thing Harry knew is he was in a dull blue room. There was a dreadful pain coursing through his left arm. Then he remembered…he remembered it all. He remembered how bad he felt after killing Ginny. 'Ginny…my angel…the only true love I ever had. She was the one who got rid of all my pain after Ron, Hermione and everyone else died. No matter how strong I acted, she always could see right through that. She always knew how I felt. She always knew what was wrong and the way to put it right. And now she is dead and it's my fault.' And at that moment he started to cry. That was the wrong thing to do. Suddenly, several nurses came rushing in. Some had medications while others had IVs and others yet had things for blood pressure and one had a syringe… a syringe full of sleeping medicine. 'Ugh…why does it always have to be sleeping draught? Always, always, always give the patient the sleeping draught. Keep him still so he doesn't struggle. Keep him still so he doesn't hurt himself more.'
"Mr. Potter, will you tell us what's wrong?" One nurse asked.
"Nothing is wrong…I was just remembering things that happened in the past. Just so many sad memories flooded back to me at once."
"We understand Mr. Potter. Well, we're just going to give you these pain medications and this sleeping draught. Later, when you're feeling better, we'd like to ask you some questions."
"Okay. Whatever." Harry responded dully. 'Of course they want to ask me some questions. They always want to ask the depressed questions they already know the answers to. They probably want to send me to a psychologist. They probably think they have to stop this. Although, then again, they don't know that anything they try to do just makes everything worse. They can't fix anything. Everything is wrong and will be until I die and can to heaven to see my angel.'
"Okay Mr. Potter. Just take these pills here and then we'll insert the draught and we'll be on our way." As Harry drifted off to sleep, he saw a flash of red hair walk through the door.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: Will be oneshot if I don't get at least 20 good or bad reviews.