DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
"No matter what I do it's never good enough
I give all that is me; still it's never enough
So why try? I give up...
I can't do anything right
You don't know me, stay out of my life
Kick me while I'm down, I want you to
I can't be like you
Don't want to be like you"
-P.O.D.
Some people marvel at me. They say I am wondrous. Maybe I am. I did take all the possible courses I could when I was a third year. I want to be the best. I have to be the best. I am not useless or hopeless.
I was ten when I received my letter saying that I was accepted to Hogwarts. It was such a shock to me but even more to my father.
My parents met at dentistry school. They got married and had not planned on having any children for a long time. They were happy and content until my mother found out she was pregnant. I was an accident. They considered abortion but there was a risk that she might not ever be able to have children again. So they turned to adoption. A nice family adopted me, I suppose. I met them but I do not remember them. Six months after I was born they were killed in a DUI accident. They were on their way home from writing me into their will. I was sent to an orphanage. A month or two later, a relatively young couple came in looking for a little girl. The doctors had told them that they would not be able to have any children. I was adopted by them. That summer, when I got my second year of schooling at Hogwarts, they told me something very important. I knew I was adopted, but little did I know that I was adopted by my birth parents. Before I was born I had disappointed them.
My father was in a worse state of shock than I was when I got my letter. He is very religious, very pious. It appalled him to learn that his only child was the very opposite of what he believed. He tried to accept me for who I became but it was too much for him.
I decided my third year I was going to be the best I could. I would do my best in everything just to prove to him that I was worth something. It was all for naught. He did not care. No matter what I did, I was still a witch. I was evil. My letter condemned me to hell. I would burn for eternity.
That is when the abuse began. He apparently thought he could beat the witchcraft from me. He started beating my mother too, blaming her because she had given birth to me.
The first evening stands out clear in my mind. He had watched me eat dinner. He ate so fast. He pushed his plate away and stared at me, watching my every move. I had just come home from Hogwarts that day. After dinner I went upstairs to finish unpacking. I was interrupted by a phone call. After my phone conversation my father spoke to me. I do not remember what he said nor how I replied but it angered him. I started walking back up the stairs to finish unpacking. He was not finished yelling at me and obviously he thought I was deaf. He grabbed my arm and dragged me over the banister like I was a rag doll, all the time screaming in my ear. He grabbed the back of my head and dragged me up the stairs and into my room by my ponytail. He grabbed me by my upper arms and repeatedly slammed me on my bed which was cluttered with my school books and tools, screaming how awful I was, what a bitch I was, how I was so imperfect.
That was when I turned to drugs and my knife and I've done and tried everything in the book. They took away all the pain he made me suffer. That was when stopped believing in God up in heaven. My father was a hypocrite.
You could no imagine how relieved my mother was when Mrs. Weasley wrote about the Quidditch World Cup.