White, Gold, and Red
The room I lie in is white, but I don't see white. I see red, the color that stained the golden trio's robes, the color that stained their faces. No happy slumber awaited them; they died in a pool of their own blood. When others had died, their pulse stopped, their blood would settle, joints would stiffen, and soon they would find themselves six feet under. No blissful sleep greeted the trio. They died coated in red. My love, friend, and brother died that day, and I passed out.
When I awoke, I found myself in a white room, in white clothes, on a white bed. I moved and I saw it, red. That was when I first had a "fit" as the mediwitches called it. Now I lay in a cushioned white room, only white is in that room, my hair is gone. The mediwitches made sure of this, to avoid another "event"…
The room, however is not white anymore, it's red now. It changed after the trio visited, but they weren't truly there, they are dead. They were dressed in white, like angels. Ron's hair was golden, I don't know why. Maybe god doesn't like red either…
My family does not visit anymore. They all survived the war. But on their first visit… I killed George… he deserved it he was wearing red.
A week ago, my armed itched… so I scratched it. Soon it felt wet, I didn't know why… but I kept on scratching. My arm began to ache, so I looked down, to find my arm coated in red. I had a "accident" they told me. The mediwitch found me passed out, covered in my own blood. When I awoke, they surrounded me… one had red nails… I had another fit…
The mediwitch told me in a solemn voice that the lady does not have nails anymore. She looked disappointed I don't know why. I smiled at the news. Harry was standing there, he looked sad. I didn't know angels could be sad. I said that, and he told me that he wasn't dead; the others had all said that, I don't know why. I saw him dead… coated in red.
My right arm itches again. It hurts. I wonder if it hurt when they died. Blood trickled down to my fingers. I shuddered. My arm ached. I tried to scratch off the red, it hurt worse, I kept scratching hoping to get rid of the red, I wonder if this is how, they felt, before they had died. Had they felt this pain, I hope not, it was unfair that they had to be placed in this anguish, no painless sleep did they enter. No flash of green. Instead they died in a pool of their own blood, coated in red. I begin to believe that is how I will die, my eyes shut.
An hour later I wake one last time. In the corner sit the golden trio. My love is crying I do not know why, if anything he should rejoice, soon I'll be joining him. My golden haired brother comforts him; my left hand touches my hairless head. My eyes close, one last time. My joints stiffen, my heart stops, my blood settles, and I am laid in my grave too. This one though is one of my own making.
A/N: I really like this… though it probs makes me a bit insane
