I'm fading with every breath
Part 1
The room was almost completely dark. The old curtain was a bit torn, letting streaks of golden light into the room. The dust particles were dancing in the light, as he pressed the cold steel against his wrist. It scared him to think about what he was doing, and because of that, he didn't press too hard.
He felt warmth run down his arm, and he knew he was bleeding. There was no pain. His head was spinning after hours and hours of crying. He wanted to throw up, but he simply couldn't.
As George looked down at his wrist, his mind cleared, and he pressed his free hand over the cut, screaming as his salty palm toutched it.
He was too hungry and too weak to even care about the bloody razorblade on the floor. Instead, he grabbed his wand, not caring about it being smudged with blood, and pointed it at his wrist to make the bleeding stop.
After washing off, he went down the stairs. Slowly, off course. He hadn't been down there for two days.
As he entered the livingroom, where the rest of his family, along with Harry and Hermione, were having tea. His mother raised her head and looked at him. A smile spread across her face and she got up.
"Oh, George." She said, holding him in a tight hug. "I'll get you something to eat, dear. Sit down"
He went to sit next to his little sister. His steps were long, but slow and his face was even skinnier than before. He was sweating under his hoodie, but he couldn't bare exposing his wrists, which had been slit every night the past few weeks. He had hoped to die from it, but had always been too scared to push too hard.
"How are you?." Ginny asked, stroking his back. His body was trembling, as if he had been an old man.
"Dunno." George answered. That was all he could say, if he was going to tell her the truth.
"Aren't you hot?" Ginny asked, looking at his marine blue hoodie and stonewashed jeans. He just shook his head.
His depression had affected them all. It was like George had been replaced with someone else. Just weeks ago, he was a happy prankster. Now, his eyes were lifeless, his body weak, and he didn't smile anymore.
Mrs Weasley came back with a bowl of steaming hot chicken soup and a glass of pumpkin juice. For the first time in a long while, a slight smile spread across his face, as he gladly accepted the food.
"Are you feeling any better?" Mrs Weasley asked as she watched her son eat.
"I'm alive, aren't I?" George answered. He smiled to make sure she wouldn't be upset. His mother smiled even bigger, then laughed happily and gave him a peck on the cheek.
"I've missed that smile so much"
This made them all look slightly happier, and George tried to focus on their smiles, instead of his death wish.
After he finished up his food, there was a knock on the door, and Mrs Weasley went to get it. Before he knew it, his older brother Percy had jumped at him, hugging him.
"Oh, George, I'm so happy you're finally back"
George noticed Percy was crying. He patted his back to give him some comfort, but he didn't have any to give.
"Easy on him, Percy" Mrs Weasley yelled from the kitchen, and he let go of George. They stared at eachother for a moment, before Ginny, and soon the rest, went to join Percy, hugging George. For a second, George wondered why he would want to die, when he was surrounded by people who loved him, but the feeling of being torn apart came back before he could think about it anymore.
"If it's not too much to ask, I would like some air", he joked, or tried to make it sound like one at least. They let go of him and laughed happily.
Suddenly, George saw a picture on the wall. It had been there for years, and he had barely noticed it, until now, when looking at it gave him the feeling of being ripped open. It was a framed photo of two boys, around fifteen years old. One of them being himself. Ginny caught him staring at it and ran up to the wall, taking it down. His eyes went to study the floor, as he felt his soul twist and turn in torture.
"I'm so sorry, Georgie"
That nickname woke him up from his thoughts, and as he raised his head, his eyes met a pair of deep blue ones, and a concerned and upset face, belonging to his sister. His heart ripped open as he saw tears run down her face and he hugged her. He was confused about what to feel, and wanted to cry by the thought of him destroying her.
"It's okay, Gin" he whispered, trying to be the big brother again. No matter how hard he tried, though, he could still feel his cut wrists burn at the toutch of the fabric on his hoodie.
The rest of the day, George acted the best he could to make everyone believe he was okay. When it was time for everyone to go to bed, he entered the bedroom he once had chared with Fred. Thanks to the flat they had above their shop, there was not much left in there to remind him of his twin. The walls were still covered with posters, but apart from that, the only thing left in the room was a bed and a small table.
The razorblade and blood were still on the floor. He ignored it and sat down, trying to study his hands in the dark. They were skinny and both the bones and vains were clearly visible through the pale skin. The room was lit up in blue by the fullmoon shining through the torns and holes in the curtain. The razorblade on the floor seemed interesting again, so he picked it up. It was sticky with slightly dried blood. He watched the light reflect on the now red surface of the object he used, to hurt himself.
"If you could see me now", he mumbled, as if he was talking to Fred. "You would have slapped me"
He felt angry, with himself, with Fred, with everyone. He pressed the blade in his hand. His knuckles turned white and blood trickled down between his fingers. His hand flew up to his face, cutting himself all over his cheeks and forehead in anger, tears rolling down his face and he screamed, before collapsing onto the floor, blood all over his face and hands. He didn't care anymore. He wanted to die right there.
"Don't do this to yourself", he heard someone whisper. As he used his last powers to raise his head, he saw his twin, slightly faded, and glowing in a white-blue light, kneeling beside him. He helped him to a sitting position.
"Fred..." George breathed between sobs. The spirit of his dead brother stroke his bleeding face gently. It was like beeing toutched by ice, yet he went warm inside. Before he knew it, Fred disappeared and the door flew open. As he heard Hermione's scream, he quickly turned to face her, forgetting how he must look. Her scream went through him like a freezing wind. Everything went blurry, the screams of both Hermione and his sister faded away. He saw the blurry figure of his father enter the room. He could hear him speak, but not what he was saying. As he returned to reality, his father's eyes were staring into his own. They looked disappointed, yet caring.
"Why did you do this, George?" Mr Weasley asked. George couldn't answer. He felt tears rise in his eyes and he broke down completely. Regretting scaring the girls so bad. Regretting he hadn't locked the door, or at least put a silence curse on the room. His father told the girls to get out. As they had left, Mrs Weasley came in, wondering what had happened.
"Don't come in here, just get a cloth with warm water" Mr Weasley said to his wife. George's face was covered by his hands and long hair. Mr Weasley tried to calm him down. He wanted to be angry with his son, but didn't have the heart to be, after everything that had happened.
As Mrs Weasley got back in with a bowl of warm water and a cloth, she stared at her son in shock, but remained calm. As George sat up, he couldn't help but look at his mother. The sight of his face made tears form in her eyes as she carefully wiped the blood away from what used to be a beautiful face, filled with laughter and life.
"I'm sorry, mum" George whispered. She nodded, blinking the tears away from her eyes.
"We'll get through this" she whispered back. When his face was clean, she used her wand to stop the bleeding, then looked at his hands. He didn't protest when she pulled up his sleeves, revealing all the cuts he had made the last few weeks. Tears fell to the floor like glass pearls, as he watched her clean his arms and hands.
Before leaving, his mother looked at him for a long time, wanting him to explain. Wanting him to say anything.
"Doing these things will not bring him back" she said, trying to keep her voice clear.
"He-" George began, almost telling her about Fred's spirit, but thought it would hurt her more. "I want to be with him, mum"
The last words were but a whisper. He could see she understood he had tried to take his own life, because her body was trembling and she cried, holding him tight.
"I can't lose another son" she mumbled into his ear. He felt selfish. He was hurting his family so bad, yet he felt he had no other option, but to leave this world.
"Help me" he whispered, not realising what he had said, until the words had slipped out his mouth.
His mother pulled away and looked into his eyes. Her facial expression had changed. He couldn't understand what she was feeling by looking at her.
"I'll do anything, George. Trust me"
Part 2
The following day wasn't easy to get through. As he joined his family for breakfast, he noticed Ginny couldn't look at him. The wounds had been healed by magic, leaving thinner line shaped cuts in his face instead.
"Ginny, will you look at me?" he pleaded. She slowly turned her head to face him. She looked hurt and scared.
"I would like to have my brother back, but you cut him to pieces" she said. The lump down his throat he was used to feel now, tightened.
"I'm really sorry" George said, looking at her, then at everyone else. The others nodded understandingly, but not Ginny. She just stared at Hermione.
"How can you be okay with this? Have you allready forgotten what happened last night?"
Ginny sounded angry. Hermione looked down at her hands.
"No... But I understand George, and I want to help him" Hermione said quietly. Ron put his arm around her and Ginny looked at Harry instead.
"What about you? Are you okay with all this?"
George could tell Harry was feeling as if he was placed in the middle of it all.
"Ginny, listen to me-" George began, but she stood up and stared at him.
"No, George, you will listen!" she was screaming and Mrs Weasley was just about to stand up and interrupt her, before Ginny continued even louder. "We all miss Fred! He was my brother too, my big brother who always looked after me!"
George looked at her without speaking.
"Gin-" her mother began, but she held up her hand to silence her.
"Ron and Percy saw him die! If anyone in this room would have the right to feel the way you do, it should be them!"
The room went quiet. George was biting his lower lip.
"Ginerva sit down!"
Mr Weasleys voice echoed through out the room. George wasn't moving. He looked at his sisters upset face.
"You make me feel alot better" he mumbled. Ginny's face softened, when she realized what she just had done. She looked at him. He was wearing a t-shirt for the first time in a long while, and she now saw the cuts covering his arms. He stared at her, feeling his eyes get moist.
"You haven't considered that I might be feelin bad because I wasn't there when he died? That I didn't even know he was dead until the war was over?"
"That's no excuse, I wasn't there either" Ginny mumbled.
George shook his head. A part of him understood her, but he felt angry.
"Why are you doing this, Ginny?"
For a moment, Ginny didn't speak. She just stared at him, tears forming in her eyes.
"Because I love you"
George's lower lip trembled and he got up, walked to the other side of the table and kneeled beside her, holdig her tight.
"I love you too, Ginny, and I'm really sorry. I'll get help, I promise"
That breakfast ended in hugs and tears.
That afternoon, George did went to a psychologist. Her name was Dr Saunders.
"Tell me what you feel, George" she began.
He just looked at her, as if she was mental.
"Excuse me?"
"Tell me what you're feeling"
He was shocked. Was she crazy? He was obviously not feeling well, since he visited her.
"Obviously, not so good"
"And why is that?"
"My brother was murdered"
She just looked at him, studying him in a way.
"And what does that make you feel?"
"Are you really that dumb? I just told you"
She smiled at him.
"Do you believe his death to be your fault?"
"No... I just... Find it hard to live without him"
"Were you close?"
That woman was not normal. He felt anger build up inside him.
"He's my twin"
"I see"
For a moment it was all quiet.
"He came to me, telling me not to do these things"
"Your brother's ghost?" she asked. George nodded.
"Yes"
"Do you see him often?"
"No just once"
She nodded by those words and removed her glasses.
"Why do you wish to die, George?"
George bit his lower lip.
"I've lost my spark..."
"I believe you want to join your brother, and the reason to why you haven't allready, is because you love your family too much to commit suicide"
George nodded and looked out through the window.
"It's like I have this hole inside me, and it's getting bigger and bigger"
"You're grieving" she said to him shortly.
"I'm sick of living. I'm sick of seeing people miserable"
When she didn't say anything, he left.
That evening he felt angrier than he had ever done before. He felt lonely, even though the entire family was there. Even though Ginny was smiling, he felt empty. It was a feeling of complete calm, still with his soul slowly dying. He was going to spend his last evening with his family, make them smile.
"How are you feeling?" Ron asked him and George faked a smile towards him. He felt as if he was flying, as if his heart had stopped allready. Empty, yet free.
"I'm great" George answered, emptying his glass of firewhisky.
"We were so worried" Ron continued.
"Don't be. I'll be fine"
George watched his family laugh and smile. He hugged them all, and gave his mother a peck on the cheek, before returning to his room.
Completely calm, he grabbed a rope from under his bed. There was plenty of junk under there, so he knew he would find one.
He grabbed a chair from the hallway outside the room, and put it on the floor near the window. There was a hook in the ceiling above the window. Still as calm as never before, he created a snare. The ghost of his brother was standing in the corner of the room, staring at him. George got his head through the hoop in the snare.
"MUM!" The ghost yelled. He seemed not to be able to move. "MUM!"
The chair was kicked to the floor. George's feet were swaying from side to side. His body slightly twitching. His face turned blue and he did not move anymore.
As Mrs Weasley ran up the stairs, followed by everyone else, the ghost grabbed the hand of his brother's spirit, and they disappeared.
Molly Weasley entered the room along with Hermione, Harry, her children and her husband. The sight of her son's lifeless body hanging by the window made her fall to her knees. Their scream echoed through the house, as Harry, Ron and Mr Weasley cut the rope, trying to revive George Weasley. He never woke up, nor did he take another breath. Behind the remaining members of the Weasleys, the spirits of the twins stood, holding hands, smiling again.