Disclaimer: whatever...

I can still feel that burning anger inside me when I look at her, even if it has been six years. It does not matter what I do, she always remembers what I did. No matter how hard I tried in the past, there she lives, forgetting the present. I sometimes wish to murder her or myself out of her anger for me. I now know that is not practical.

Who is this I talk about? Minerva McGonagall. Six years ago was probably when all of this hate started. I was so carefree back then: trustful, loyal, caring, and full of it. At the time I thought that being seventeen was hard; it is harder now that I hate and am older. I told her everything I wanted, everything I dreamed of becoming, and everything I felt inside. She told everyone everything I wanted, everything I dreamed of becoming, and everything I felt inside.

Whatever it was that made her learn to hate, I do not know. All I know is that I feel a burning sensation inside me when she passes by. The kind of burning that gets you down in the bottom of your stomach, forcefully tearing you apart from the inside. Sometimes, when alone in my office, I feel the need to throw something at the wall. It has no reason, it is just a random urge that comes over me. All of this that is being held up inside me will eventually break apart. I wait apprehensively for that day to come.

I want to ask her so many questions about what I might have done. She turns me away and her blank stare returns. I got so far, and tried so hard. In the end it does not even matter. I wish it did.

My name is Severus Snape, and I have been betrayed.