Disclaimer: This is an HP character. I don't own them.
Warning: T – this is not a bedtime story. It's a short death fic. So, read if you want to.
"I can't do this anymore. This façade; this empty smile that graces my face whenever I leave my room. I simply won't. I hate it here. It's worse, sometimes, than in the summer. At least then I –know- I'm alone. Here at Hogwarts… I am surrounded, yet full in my solitude. It's too much to take, and this is my final goodbye. I have nothing more to say. I will miss you all terribly. Do not mourn; I am happier here than ever before."
A 6th year student at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft & Wizardry carefully folded the note, and attached it to the school owl. Tying the animal down with a charmed tether, she left her room. The tether was to break in a few hours; that was all it would take to get her nerve and finish what she'd tried to do so many times before.
She climbed down the stairs and through the portrait hole silently. Her fingers felt the raised familiarity of the scars on her forearm, and her lips curved in a pale imitation of her usual smile. Her feet led her to the tower where one usually had a good snog. It wasn't her design that had made it the highest place of the whole castle. It just worked out that way. What irony.
Flashback –
"I can't do this. It's not right. I don't love you!" She pushed him away with strength. He only laughed, and came back with astonishing speed. His breath was hot on her neck; his voice in her ear washed over her. She flinched.
"It doesn't matter. I'm the only one that will have you." He whispered to her, enjoying the look on her face as she realized the truth. Tears coursed down, and she tried hard to stop them. He merely laughed, and lazily had his way…
End Flashback-
This was the place where she'd gotten kissed. Where everything had happened. It was going to be her resting place.
Tears snaked down her cheeks in a silent torrent. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp as she climbed the stairs. Settling herself on a windowsill, she lifted the knife… and lay it down.
Why couldn't she do it? It was no different than before, was it? She was just cutting a little deeper, a little harder… She raised it again. A savage slash brought satisfaction. She went again, and then a third time; and then stared, horrified. The amount of red liquid was astonishing. She had to stop it – no, it was for good. She was going to die! She wanted to live, right?
Hastily, the girl tore her robe, winding it tight around the gashes. It was too late. The moon was privilege to all this, its yellow sliver mocking in its serenity.