For the entire Christmas break, Lily sat in her dorm room, alone. She withdrew herself from society, afraid to meet the eyes of anyone. Afraid of meeting the eyes of death. She wanted to deny that her parents were dead, she did not want to believe it. She almost forced herself to believe that they were perfectly fine and that the letter was a hoax. But the proof was there, in ink. Voldemort had murdered her parents. Murdered. It was such a harsh word, one that many would never like to think about. But the word played around in Lily's mind until she thought she had almost gone insane. Lily would not even eat. She had grown thin from lack of food and depression. Her eyes lacked the brilliant light that it once contained, and they seemed only as dulled emeralds.

Downstairs in the common room, James was pacing and running his fingers through his hair nervously. The other students would be returning within the hour from Christmas break and the Marauders needed Ash Lynn to check up on Lily.

The sound of many voices outside the portrait hole alerted the Marauders of the arriving students. The portrait hole swung open and many Gryffindors crowded in, their cheeks pink and flushed from the cold of the air. Ash Lynn walked in merrily, a wide grin plastered on her face. But at the sight of the Marauders faces, Ash Lynn's smile faded and she rushed over to where they sat.

"What's wrong?" she demanded. Peter walked up behind her and stared at his melancholy friends. "What happened? Where's Lils?" Ash Lynn rambled on. Sirius placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"You might want to go up there before the evil hags from Hell get up there," Sirius suggested, "Lily's in no fit state of mind to handle anything from them." Ash Lynn paled and took off up the stairs and into the fifth year girls dormitory, gasping slightly at the sight before her.

Lily was curled up in a feeble ball and tissues lay strewn all over the floor. Lily's cheeks were flushed, tear-stained and swollen, as were her eyes. Her lips seemed dry, so did her tears. Lily had cried herself dry, no longer capable of crying anymore, she rocked herself back and forth in a ball. Trying to give herself some consolation. Ash Lynn sat down on Lily's bed and rubbed her back. She knew better than to rush in and ask for a story. Lily would tell her, when the time was right.

"They're gone," Lily whispered.

"Who's gone?"

"My parents. They're dead. Voldemort killed them," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Ash Lynn felt as if she was going deaf. She couldn't find the words, she couldn't find her voice. She just hugged Lily, comforting her and trying to speak soothing words.

'Death. It seems so final. The dead end of the street, the period of a sentence. It's irreversible, unstoppable, sometimes it seems as if it's our fate. We could wish and pray all we wanted to go back into time, but we know it's impossible. It seems like someone is always to blame and the guilt lays heavily upon a burdened soul, a broken heart. The guilty is never pardoned and always sent to death. Death in silence. Screams are unheard and cries go unnoticed. Torture.

We play with fate. Always hoping for a miracle. Could we go back into time and change the events? What could we have done to make things different and would that happen? Is it always our fault? I know that I am to blame for all this wrongdoing. I deserve this pain. You don't kill people you love. I don't know if I can handle this. I'm always one step closer to seeing them for a final time. But I won't. I'm trying to be strong. I know it's hard and some people want to give up, but I'm trying. It hurts, as if my heart is being wrenched of all emotions. I feel dead. I feel no happiness nor sadness. It's something I cannot explain, I'm emotionless. If I could say good-bye I would. That eats away at my conscience--I couldn't even say good-bye. I promise I'll see you some day soon, someday in eternity. But for now, this is my good-bye to you. And I finally say, 'Forever good-bye, we part and 'til we meet again, be strong. Hearts may be broken but they can mend. An eternity isn't so far away.'

Lily's schedule was the same as always. She attended classes and did well, however, in the social area--she failed. She withdrew herself from everyone and did not dare speak. If she was spoken to, she pretended she was deaf or maybe she really did not hear them. She was so absorbed in her thoughts, in her darkness. The shadows consumed her, haunting her once beautiful, emerald eyes. They burned fiercely with an intense passion that no one had seen before. It was one of regret and revenge.

Lily's emotions were uncontrollable. She [placed] her misery unto the papers. A conversation with herself, with the paper. With no advice given. She blamed herself for her parents' death and so did Petunia. The night after Christmas, Lily's sister sent her a letter--placing the entire blame upon Lily. Lily could not cry and she would not cry. She promised she would be strong.

Behind closed doors and shaded windows,

My broken soul lies in the darkness of sleep.

My lips bleed from biting down so hard,

Ragged breaths in heartbreaking rhythm

With this shattered, bleeding heart of mine,

These tears do not heal, for I'm forever broken

Can you say the words that will ward this pain away?

Pieces of glass lay on the floor next to a naked body

Cuts are freshly frozen on pale skin, exposed veins

Cry tears while eyes bleed crimson on the wooden floor

Pale white walls, stained with fingerprinted blood

Feeble cries from a broken soul, an attempt to rise

But fallen once more. Bones are brittle, a heartbeat dying

A pulse is fading into nonexistence, a soul into eternal loneliness

My heart has been broken in a thousand different ways

Your words, this razor that I seem to want to cut myself with

They're harsh and cold like a silver blade, rusted with my sins

Did I fail like you wanted me to? Is this how I was supposed to die?

Bleeding freely from open wounds that you created with your knife

Words entwined with my veins, pulling, screaming, crying

I'm exposed to the showers of needles searching for some uncut skin

Tears have not been shed for many days of endless torture

Dry of tears, I can no longer cry. My voice has died, I can no longer scream

If I asked you to kill me now, would you accept my surrender?

Breathing in the sorrow, it hurts my lungs like I'm breathing in acid.

Can you please write the words that will ward this pain from me?

'Cause I never knew that heartache could be so agonizing.'

Does it hurt to bleed this way, crimson stained emotions poured onto loose leaf papers?