Before.
Disclaimer: all characters from the books belong to JK Rowling.
A/n. This is Ginny thinking back.
The wind hit her so viciously, so angry, so fierce, it felt good. It was hurting her, hitting her, lashing wildly at her. The hurt she "needed." She had just walked out on Harry, who said he loved her, the thing she'd been waiting for years. And she left to go and die in this cold.
He said it as a last resort; a nagging voice came into her head.
Ignoring the voice, she continued walking blindly, knowing the way so well, she could easily end up where she wanted, her favourite place, by the lake. It served as a double purpose. It was her favourite place, and if someone stumbled across her she could rush into the lake. Sitting herself down on the ground firmly, hugging her body close, she thought back. Back to where it had all began. Where the depression had slipped unnoticed in. And then increased so much, it drove her mental. So much it was, she turned anorexic as well as suicidal.
And where it had begun…had been Easter that year.
They had all gone home, all the Weasleys' and Harry and Hermione – her mother had insisted. Ginny had been bored throughout the whole holiday at home. Although he brothers had spoken to her at length at first, it wore off and they all spoke to each other. Harry and Ron were together, Hermione sometimes with them, mostly not as she had brought back a load of extra work to work on over the holidays. So…with her brothers all talking "manly" stuff and Hermione locked away, her mother started calling on her to set the table and do odd jobs. This irritated her. True, she may be the one not doing anything, so forced into doing them, but throughout the whole holiday she had done what seemed like every thing in the house. She had taken to disappearing into her bedroom, and if Hermione occupied it, outside, a while away from her house. Sometimes she was there for hours and when she went back, all was well and merry; no one even seemed to have noticed her absence.
Then they had gone back after the holidays for the term ahead. But this little nagging negative voice had suddenly appeared from nowhere and was distracting her. Everywhere she went it found some fault with her. It tormented her, tortured her. She lost concentration on her work, concentrated only on the voice, trying to improve so it would find no fault and disappear – yet it never left.
Then she had been walking to class when Draco Malfoy appeared from nowhere and seeing it was the youngest Weasley, his face turned into an evil smirk. He started teasing her, teasing her on everything, he blocked her path, he was tall, and sneering. He was the one who called her fat constantly. He was the one who turned her anorexic.
She had tried to dodge round him to get to her class, and failed. He also blocked her, spotted her excuse. After five minutes, he had started teasing that sounded so much like the voice she lost her temper. She shouted at him in a furious rage and then slapped him and then, realising what she had done, burst into tears and fled. She fled into the grounds, where she was sitting now, and stayed there, tears trickling down her face, his torments never leaving her mind, the nagging voice adding on them. Eventually Dumbledore had found her, yet she had stopped crying at that point, her heart had hardened, she no longer cared. She had to make herself perfect, she had to. All the nagging, all his words, made her form her plan of action, starting by not eating.
Dumbledore came, he had found her, and he took her back to his office. He had spoken to her, he had given accounts of everything from the start of that term, her grades slipping, Malfoy saying she had just come up and slapped him twice. She could have told him, she could have and maybe everything would have been fine.
The nagging voice found fault with that though. She always spilled her heart out, everyone else solved her problems, she need to become independent. So she had remained silent and stony, not heeding a single word.
She had started by not eating, but then, as too many people noticed this, had started eating and making herself puke up later in private. She had become so thin, so pale, so fragile. Instead, as she had first thought, the negative voice found fault, too pale, too white, too thin, not becoming happier.
Then had come the summer and October holidays. She had gone home for the summer to be greeted by furious parents. They constantly found fault with her. They were most of all furious of her of her grades. Her work had slipped down low in standard; homework handed in uncompleted, tests with low marks, work going down. Didn't pay any attention to teachers, caught staring, lack of concentration… The list was gigantic.
They never noticed her abnormal thinness, the nagging voice had now convinced her that she was fat, and she always wore the baggiest clothes she could.
Returning back from the summer holidays, she continued the same as last term and then when the October holidays passed, she lost the will. She lost the will of everything, the will to work, the will to talk, the will to live. And it was mainly that was why she was sitting in the icy cold wind with the snow hitting her wildly, hitting her lashes, shutting her eyes from the cold, the snow gathering all over her body.
She didn't want to live. She wanted it all over.
Her body remained still and close, the wind battering her, the snow building on her.
If anyone could save her, they'd need to come soon, very soon.
A/n. What do you think? Good reason or bad? Review * PLEASE!!!!!! *
And I urge you, if you are seriously depressed or suicidal GET HELP please. Whoever you are, remember, you are one of a kind, unique, special, no one's like you. And you deserve to live, no matter what you feel – you are unique. Someone loves you.
Same if you have an eating disorder, please seek help. Everyone has their own shape, be proud of it.
Disclaimer: all characters from the books belong to JK Rowling.
A/n. This is Ginny thinking back.
The wind hit her so viciously, so angry, so fierce, it felt good. It was hurting her, hitting her, lashing wildly at her. The hurt she "needed." She had just walked out on Harry, who said he loved her, the thing she'd been waiting for years. And she left to go and die in this cold.
He said it as a last resort; a nagging voice came into her head.
Ignoring the voice, she continued walking blindly, knowing the way so well, she could easily end up where she wanted, her favourite place, by the lake. It served as a double purpose. It was her favourite place, and if someone stumbled across her she could rush into the lake. Sitting herself down on the ground firmly, hugging her body close, she thought back. Back to where it had all began. Where the depression had slipped unnoticed in. And then increased so much, it drove her mental. So much it was, she turned anorexic as well as suicidal.
And where it had begun…had been Easter that year.
They had all gone home, all the Weasleys' and Harry and Hermione – her mother had insisted. Ginny had been bored throughout the whole holiday at home. Although he brothers had spoken to her at length at first, it wore off and they all spoke to each other. Harry and Ron were together, Hermione sometimes with them, mostly not as she had brought back a load of extra work to work on over the holidays. So…with her brothers all talking "manly" stuff and Hermione locked away, her mother started calling on her to set the table and do odd jobs. This irritated her. True, she may be the one not doing anything, so forced into doing them, but throughout the whole holiday she had done what seemed like every thing in the house. She had taken to disappearing into her bedroom, and if Hermione occupied it, outside, a while away from her house. Sometimes she was there for hours and when she went back, all was well and merry; no one even seemed to have noticed her absence.
Then they had gone back after the holidays for the term ahead. But this little nagging negative voice had suddenly appeared from nowhere and was distracting her. Everywhere she went it found some fault with her. It tormented her, tortured her. She lost concentration on her work, concentrated only on the voice, trying to improve so it would find no fault and disappear – yet it never left.
Then she had been walking to class when Draco Malfoy appeared from nowhere and seeing it was the youngest Weasley, his face turned into an evil smirk. He started teasing her, teasing her on everything, he blocked her path, he was tall, and sneering. He was the one who called her fat constantly. He was the one who turned her anorexic.
She had tried to dodge round him to get to her class, and failed. He also blocked her, spotted her excuse. After five minutes, he had started teasing that sounded so much like the voice she lost her temper. She shouted at him in a furious rage and then slapped him and then, realising what she had done, burst into tears and fled. She fled into the grounds, where she was sitting now, and stayed there, tears trickling down her face, his torments never leaving her mind, the nagging voice adding on them. Eventually Dumbledore had found her, yet she had stopped crying at that point, her heart had hardened, she no longer cared. She had to make herself perfect, she had to. All the nagging, all his words, made her form her plan of action, starting by not eating.
Dumbledore came, he had found her, and he took her back to his office. He had spoken to her, he had given accounts of everything from the start of that term, her grades slipping, Malfoy saying she had just come up and slapped him twice. She could have told him, she could have and maybe everything would have been fine.
The nagging voice found fault with that though. She always spilled her heart out, everyone else solved her problems, she need to become independent. So she had remained silent and stony, not heeding a single word.
She had started by not eating, but then, as too many people noticed this, had started eating and making herself puke up later in private. She had become so thin, so pale, so fragile. Instead, as she had first thought, the negative voice found fault, too pale, too white, too thin, not becoming happier.
Then had come the summer and October holidays. She had gone home for the summer to be greeted by furious parents. They constantly found fault with her. They were most of all furious of her of her grades. Her work had slipped down low in standard; homework handed in uncompleted, tests with low marks, work going down. Didn't pay any attention to teachers, caught staring, lack of concentration… The list was gigantic.
They never noticed her abnormal thinness, the nagging voice had now convinced her that she was fat, and she always wore the baggiest clothes she could.
Returning back from the summer holidays, she continued the same as last term and then when the October holidays passed, she lost the will. She lost the will of everything, the will to work, the will to talk, the will to live. And it was mainly that was why she was sitting in the icy cold wind with the snow hitting her wildly, hitting her lashes, shutting her eyes from the cold, the snow gathering all over her body.
She didn't want to live. She wanted it all over.
Her body remained still and close, the wind battering her, the snow building on her.
If anyone could save her, they'd need to come soon, very soon.
A/n. What do you think? Good reason or bad? Review * PLEASE!!!!!! *
And I urge you, if you are seriously depressed or suicidal GET HELP please. Whoever you are, remember, you are one of a kind, unique, special, no one's like you. And you deserve to live, no matter what you feel – you are unique. Someone loves you.
Same if you have an eating disorder, please seek help. Everyone has their own shape, be proud of it.