A Burning Flame
Here I sit, my hands placed delicately in my warm lap, every once and a while gently smoothing out my heavy, black cloak, watching the burning flame.
I creep closely into the warmth of the flame, banishing all the bitter cold, and letting the warmth wash over me like a thick, wool quilt, trapping the heat, and my secrets…
I close my eyes, shutting everything out. Flashes of color flicker by, reds, greens, blues. They all mean the same thing; death, betrayal, envy.
I remember it everyday, every breath I take, I remember what I did.
Opening my eyes, and lifting my body, more death in it than life, off the hardwood floor, the screams and moans of it making me remember what I did. I carefully walk over to the icy window, and gaze out at the glistening snow, the sheer light blinding me, but I keep looking.
"Oy, Hermione," someone calls, but I ignore them, just as everyone else.
I go back into my seclusion, resting by the warmth of the flame, watching as it licks the air surfacing it.
Pulling a lock of once brown hair, speckled with gray, behind my ear I pull my cloak even tighter around me.
I sigh, falling into a deep, deep sleep. But, just before I lay down to rest, I murmur something, barely noticed, but still there.
"I killed them…"
Disclaimer: I own nothing.