Disclaimer: Harry is not mine and neither are the other characters. yadda yadda yadda. Don't sue me. Etc etc etc

A/N: Okay…Be prepared for a lot of angst…and a bit of crazyness from Harry…No I don't mean the funny kind of crazyness. I mean the twisted, demented kind…

Harry's POV

His eyes stared ahead, into the empty space before him. Those pale lifeless eyes. A tear streaked down my cheek and I struggled to hold in a strangled sob. I took a shaky breath in and bit my lip.

He was dead. He was dead because of me. Just because I used that damn spell. Thousands of thought flew through my head. Why did this happen? Why with me? Why with him? Why did I even pick up that book?!

His lifeless corpse lay on the white hospital bed. I yearned to see those empty grey eyes revive and look at me with the hate and contempt that they normally did.

Headmaster Dumbledore stood behind me sadly. Maybe he was watching me. Making sure I wouldn't do anything to Malfoy. It didn't matter. He was already dead anyway. What more harm could I do?

I lifted my shaky hand and traced one of his cuts. My fingers roamed over the deep gashes. They were so red. Blood red against his pale skin. They had stopped bleeding by now. They had stopped bleeding hours ago. I was supposed to leave hours ago. But I couldn't.

What stopped me? My guilt? My grief? My lamentation? I don't know. But I stayed. For hours, I sat in that chair staring at his motionless body, hoping it would come to life. No not hoping- but praying. But yet, it didn't.

It was official. He was dead. It had been official hours ago. People…Mourners…They had come and gone, each of Malfoy's friends glaring at me. And each of the Gryffindors just stared at me sadly, shaking their heads.

Chocolates and flowers were arranged by his bed. All sent by mourners. I didn't give him anything. I couldn't. What was there that I could give? He was dead. And by my hand. I took away his life.

Saliva built up in my mouth and I forced a painful swallow. Another tear fell down my cheek. It was followed by another. And another. And another, until endless streams flowed down my cheeks.

Dumbledore left. I didn't know when or why, and nor did I care. My body shook, as I let all my emotions out with my crying.

Eventually, my tear ducts ran dry and my mind was clearer. Clearer than it had been in a while. The guilt was still there. And so was the grief. And the lamentation. But there was something else there. A realization.

A realization that I was a murderer. A cold-blooded murderer. That I killed someone.

I didn't deserve to live. No…I didn't.

My shaky hand reached for my pocket, where Sirius's pocket knife was snugly tucked away. A grin broke unto my face as I pulled it out.

The metal blade gleamed under the beam of the artificial ceiling lights. I ran my hand down the edge. It was so sharp. Oh so sharp.

Ah. A drop of blood. My eyes watched it predatorily. The bright crimson drop glistened. How beautiful. The drop fell off my finger only to lean on the soft, white fabric of my shirt. It splayed, spreading. Yes. Quite beautiful.

I ran the blade across my wrist, setting a few more drops free, so that they could land on my shirt. Tie-dye. The splatters of red…I sighed, looking at it. There was too much white. I needed more red. I cut more. And more, until my shirt was covered in red. So pretty. So beautiful.

The world began to get fuzzy. I blinked rapidly. Nope. Still fuzzy. And it was getting fuzzier. And fuzzier.

"Harry! What are you doing?!" A voice called out to me. I tried to lift my head up. But I couldn't. My head was too heavy. The air was too heavy. Why was gravity suddenly so strong? Everything got even more fuzzier. My knife slipped out of my hand and clattered onto the floor.

And then…Black.

Just black.

It's okay. Don't cry.

I'm with God now. And my family. With Mum and Dad and Sirius.

I've met Malfoy too. And talked to him once in a while…He's not really all that bad…

Don't worry. I'm fine. I'm actually doing pretty great. Though my parents are dragging me to therapy because of my suicide…and Malfoy keeps making fun of me for that…Oh well…

A/N: What do you think? Was it too sad? I tried to end it on a happier note…I like this fic…It was written in a random bout of inspiration…I was reading Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul… and there was something on suicide…And I just started typing. At first, I didn't even know what I was typing, but the story just flowed out of me…I love it when that happens…It makes me feel special and awesomeful. At first, I didn't even know who's POV I was writing in and who was dead…It just happened. Dudes/Dudettes I hope you enjoyed it…I think I was about to cry when writing it…

I forgoed my homework to write this, so you guys should feel special. Maybe this is the reason for my bad grade in math…Because I'm posting so much on fanfiction…But I like posting. And getting reviews… -hint hint- Anyway, I think I'll go study and do all my homework now…Okay?!

Oh and one more thing! Review please? If you're soo lazy that you don't want to type anything, then just copy and paste this into the review box--"This was a totally awesome story! You rock!"

Hehe. I love reviews, even if they are crappy and half-assed. –hint hint to Amanda…about me liking reviews…not the crappy half-assed thing- hehe.

XOXO

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PS: Sorry for all my rambling...I do that a lot...I'm just very very very very very very bored. Hehe.