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Abby
'Cause then I'd fall apart
I'm sitting in a dark corner; pain soaring through my veins is only leftovers. I seem to be doing this exact thing a lot lately. I wish it wasn't this way. I wish I had been born another person at anther time and place, but I do not believe in resurrection, I do not believe in god.
My name is Draco Lucifer Malfoy.
It would be only ironic for me to believe in god, my name screams out loud words of hatred and evil, and everything I never wished to be. Everyone at least whimpers at my name, maybe for what I did last year, the way I killed those people, and the way Harry Potter couldn't stop me from it.
Some say that I will be the next dark lord, and that I must be exterminated before that can happen, my father is proud of these comments, but I shrink at the thought, everything points in that direction, I have killed for the dark lord, and I haven't even received the mark. I am a disgrace.
I have tried to be taken back to the fair side, but I have been deprived of, too many times.
Some say I'm an ungrateful little rich child, but that's the only point of view they wish to know. It is true, I have enough money to last me five generations, and my parents are both alive and still married. But I do not have everything I wish. I will soon be killed, or taken by force to the dark side.
I cannot say that when I arrived at Hogwarts, my only wish was to be in slitherin, I wanted it because my father wanted it, and my father liked to have everything he wanted. I would have been fine with any house, but my father was a very vicious man, is still.
I was quickly sorted into slitherin, but I felt like I wanted to cry when I was humiliated by the boy who lived and his friends. It seemed like it was the only right thing to do, I was only eleven after all. I would have been friends with the boy if he had shaken my hand that day, but now my target is to make his life hell, just like he did with mine.
That day, I officially became 'Harry Potter's enemy' it was not what I wanted as I say, but I believe I have played the role well.
I feel trapped, inside myself. I am ashamed of myself, of what is expected of me, of how I have wasted sixteen years of life. If only I could take it all back…
I have spent endless days looking for a spell that can take me back seven years. But there is no such thing. I can't be who I am, my whole life I have lived up to expectations and something tells me I always will.
My soul cries for deliverance, but I must learn to take control of my emotions. I have lost count of the years in which I haven't shred a tear. My feelings are locked inside a box inside me. I threw the key away, and with every passing second, the mud keeps covering it up, until it will be too lost to be found again. Then my father will have achieved what he always wanted, a soulless creature instead of a son.
When I close my eyes I am in heaven, everything is alright and I have the life I should have had, the raindrops cleaning my wounds and my soiled soul.
I have never known love, just maybe I am afraid to feel, since I haven't done so in such a long time. I want to love, but whom? I would ruin whoever I fell in love with, and the last thing I want to do is ruin someone else.
There is no expression left in my scarred face, scars of my fathers whip in my face, but scars of memories in my eyes, scars that never heal, and that can't be forgotten.
I have tried many times to stand up to my father, to tell him that I don't want to be this any more, but he just laughs and curses me, which is exactly why I am sitting here in this cold damp, dark corner in my room.
Tomorrow the war will begin, I know I will die, and I know who will kill me, but I have nothing to mourn about, because it is hardly life that I will lose. So that all I can do is hope that my death will be painless and quick, and I hope that I fall still holding my last breath. Because then I'd still have something, and I won't have lost it all. Although that is what I deserve. To lose it all.
I will do my best to die with pride, if pride can be given to a name such as mine. I just want to scream, but if I do, I will be cursed by Voldemort's number one bitch, my father. I'm sure he would slay me if the dark lord asked him to. I wish my father had treated me like a father should treat a son, but that never was, and never will be.
My head is pounding; maybe I've finally found the key to that box, because I'm terrified, but the worst thing of all is that I'm terrified of myself. Of what I will have to do in less than 24 hours, or I could just kill myself, and do everyone a favor.
All I want to do is scream, and cry and love, most of all love, but I will never love, one cannot fall in love in 24 hours, and even less if one spends those 24 hours in a dark corner in their own room.
I would like to apparate somewhere else, maybe beside the sea to watch the sunset, I've never sat down to look at the sunset, or in that matter been to the ocean. Muggles seem to like it a lot. I have nothing against muggles… but you cannot apparate or disapparate inside the manor or in the manor grounds. And since I am far too tired and injured to walk all the way to the gate, I will just sit here, waiting.
Am I allowed to laugh? It is just curiosity since I never really want to laugh. Nothing is funny enough to make me laugh, and as for joy, I left behind my wishes for it.
I can hear footsteps coming towards my room, loud, heavy, confident footsteps, none other than my father. Who is charging into my room like if it was his.
"Son you must get dressed immediately, the lord has had a change of plans. You will take the mark before the battle tomorrow. You have five minutes."
At this he leaves, but I wait until I no- longer hear his footsteps to start getting dressed.
Do I recall correctly? The dark mark? Now? Why now? No more is expected of the son of Voldemort's bitch than of Voldemort's bitch himself. My robes suddenly seem very heavy, and very awkward to put on…. Wait…oh …there.
I am now walking down the delicate and well polished wooden stairs that lead toward my father's study, it's where we always meet when we are going to one of the dark lords meetings, so I am not surprised to find my father standing next to his door. Waiting for me, wearing expensive black robes, so similar to the ones I am wearing. Standing up almost too straight, they say I look like my father clone…. Do I look like that? So arrogant? Like the air doesn't deserve to be breathed by me? I hope I don't, but I must say I hold certain resemblance to him. A very strong resemblance.
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