Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to JK Rowling.
Cruelty
Alatariel Linwe Narmolanya
Don't even try. Don't try to pretend that you know me. You don't know a god damn thing about me. You don't care, you don't want to know me, so quit pretending you do. Quit pretending that you want to be my friend, I know you hate me. Everyone hates me. Everyone hates me because I push them away. I'm a cold, heartless, bitch and I say hateful things. I'm mean to every person who tries to befriend me. They don't know the real reason for everything I do. They think that they know me, that they can tell me exactly how I feel, but they don't know anything about me.
I wallow in my self-pity, so that nobody can ever find out about the real me. I'm always depressed, and I'm always cold. Not shivering cold, but cruel. If anyone found out about me, I'd become even more cruel and angry. I'd probably curse them into oblivion. (Either that, or I'd curse them into the next millennium at least)
I don't fit in anywhere. The girls in my dorm used to pretend to be my friends and try to include me in the things they like to do. I am nothing like them, I hate gossip and make-up. Pretty soon, they left off the act and let it show openly that they disliked me and ignored me most of the time which suited me fine. I really didn't care, and I still don't.
I'm like a wilted flower. I used to be young, radiant and playful. I was my parents pride and joy, and my sister's best friend. My life was perfect until the summer of my eleventh birthday. That was the year I received the accursed letter. At the time it seemed like a blessing, to go and learn magic and be able to help my family. As I look back, it was a curse. My parents are afraid of me, my sister hates me and my family is torn in two. Them on one side, and me on the other.
Now I'm like a summer flower, all dried up, hateful and ugly. Since the summer between my first and second years, my parents have beaten me, insulted me and treated me like filth. That is the only way they know how to treat people who are different. That's what I am, different. Nobody likes me. Why? Because I'm different. That one little word has torn my life apart. I'm not like anyone at school, I'm mudblood filth. I'm not like anyone at home, I'm a witch. (To my sister, I'm not a witch, but a bitch.) I'm alone in my world. My empire is the one which is strung between two perfect worlds. I'm stuck between the world of Wizards and the world of Muggles.
I look like an angelic demon to the teachers. I get perfect grades and put all of my efforts into my school work, but I'm the outcast of the school. I have no friends and haven't since my First year. I hide the looks which some people might call pretty. I wear whatever I happen to find to throw on, mostly it's baggy pants and a black t-shirt. I keep my hair in a simple pony tail, hidden from view. My auburn hair, the part of me I hate most. All it does is remind me of my past life. The life in which I was allowed to love, the life where I was happy. I've tried to change the color of my hair, I've tried to chop it all off, but it always grows back, so I don't bother anymore. It's a waste of time.
Most of my days are spent reading. I read and learn as much as I can. It's the only thing that can take my mind off the horrors of my life. I've read all of the text books that are worth reading that are in the Library. Now I just read for pleasure. It is my only joy in life to get lost in a good fantasy book. I can read about little run-away Countesses, girls who must fill their father's shoes, or little boys who plan to take over the world. I can get lost in a Classic, four sisters, with the life I wish I had or an island filled with treasure or a boy stranded in the wild.
I can curl up by the fire and let the hours pass away without a care in the world. I'm lost in my little world of fantasy, the only time I'm truly happy. Of course, when I reach the good parts of the books, someone always comes up and ruins it. They come and pretend that they want to become my friend. They come up and ask me questions. Usually, the stupid questions of these stupid people bring back some horrible memory. I end up running up to my dormitory and lie sobbing on my bed until someone else comes up and I have to be quiet.
Why do I have to be quiet? I can't let anyone see me cry. Crying is a sign of weakness, it is a petty emotion that can ruin anything and everything. If anyone saw me cry, it'd give them the opening they're looking for to take me down and make my life even more of a living hell than it already is. I don't need that to happen. My life is already bad enough thank you. I don't need any more pain.
I think that the only person here in this entire accursed school that has it worse than me is a boy with a secret. I'm the only one who knows his secret. Well, the only one other than his closest friends whom I am just assuming know. He has kept this secret so well, I just don't want to ruin it for him. I keep my mouth shut. But then again, if I did want to tell someone, I wouldn't be able to find someone to tell, because after all, I have no friends.
I hate life. If I died, I doubt anyone would even notice I was gone. The first person to notice would be the one who noticed the stench of a dead decaying carcass. The teachers might take slight notice, but that would only be because of the absence of their only intelligent student. I think that life sucks, but that is just my opinion. Don't mind me, I'll just go off into a corner and die now. Goodbye.
If anyone is reading this, I just hope that if you find someone like me, that you will remember the story of Lily Evans. Help them before it's too late. For me, there is no help, I've gone too far. You have to crack the shell while it's thin, not after it's hardened into a thick defensive blockade. Remember my story, and be happy. Be happy that you have the life I never had.
(A/N: That is a story that I've written over the past few months. Whenever I'm mad, I just write this story. I hope you've enjoyed it. Please review.)