Breathe deep. It might be the last one you take.
She knelt, trying to collect her thoughts. Not that there was much to collect. Her situation was as simple as can be; her family and lover lay murdered, and nothing she could do would bring them back or avenge them. Tears streamed down her face at the memory. She was only alive now because she'd vanished like a Diricawl when the Death Eaters showed up.
My cowardice kept me alive. It still is, in a way.
She was weak, far too weak to bear the thought of killing herself the Muggle way; knives hurt, poison made you ill, drowning hurt. And there was always the chance that someone would "save" you before you finished. She didn't want to be saved. There was nothing left to live for.
They called it the coward's way out. No. Cowardice was letting life throw all this at you. Cowardice was letting yourself get dragged down by sorrow and mistakes and sheer bad luck. True bravery was in taking a stand to end it.
Wiping her tears away, she drew her wand; the one thing she still had pride in. Knowing that she could still do something those worthless Muggles couldn't filled her with a sort of wicked glee. She polished the already gleaming wood with her sleeve and pointed it at her temple.
I must look for all the world like a Muggle with a gun pointed to her head.
Two little words could take all her pain away. Two words, and all she had to do was speak them, unless the sheer weight of the world had sapped her powers.
"Avada Kedavra!"
There was only silence in response.
Nothing. No flash of green light. She was still here. With a crack, she snapped the worthless twig in half.
Helplessly, she wept again.