warnings: scenes of suicide
...and this is how I disappear when I throw myself away...
He has become a piece of her now, and she likes to think that maybe he replaced all the bad stuff about her, all the bad stuff inside of her.
She will always think of him as black, but black no longer has the meaning it once did. So when he leaves her, one day, broken on the street, black is all she can see.
He says he's no good for her, that she needs more, and deserves better. The typical dribble of someone not wanting to put up with her any more. She knows he's tired. Tired of her, of her problems, of her inability to do and say the right things. In truth, it comes down to the fact that, despite her adamant claims that she is not ginervaweasley, she is exactly that. She can't be lilyevans and that's what Severus needs and wants and loves.
She loved him, still loves him, even now, when she is tucked away into the corner of her cottage, with the lights off and the last legs of sunset creeping in and fading away through her grimy windows. She wants something painful, because she wants to feel it, feel her life draining away. The letter is written, it's addressed to him, and was mailed this morning. She doesn't know how long it will be before somebody finds her, if they ever do, and she wants to ensure that he knows what he's done to her. She doesn't blame him for this, for the razor in her hand or the deep gashes up her wrists. She is too weak to live without him, and the absolution is simple; she won't.
She wants him to know of the good things he did to her and for her. She was happy, for a time, and those are the memories that will flash before her eyes as Death comes ever nearer. It is slow, and as she loses consciousness she whispers his name.
She quietly wishes she could be the girl she needed herself to be.