"Stuck for days, years, maybe centuries. Dead, without the right to die. Alive, but I might as well have been dead. So alone that anyone, anything, no matter how insignificant or repulsive, would have been welcome."
Suzanne Collins, Mockinjay
Hermione was running. She had been running for days, stopping at nothing, chased by the same enemy. She wanted to stop, she couldn't take it anymore, she was exhausted. But her legs refused to obey her, so in spite of herself, she ran. She was afraid, terrified even, but she could do nothing about it. No matter how much she screamed for help, for assistance, no one ever came, no one answered her. She was alone in this hell, with no way out.
She ran through the gallery of mirrors that lay at the edge of her path. That was all she could see. Her reflection, as far as the eye could see. It was the only thing keeping her company in this hellhole, her reflection. She was trapped in this maze of mirrors, she could no longer think straight. She screamed and cried, but no one came to save her.
The voice was there, chasing her again and again. It was screaming at her that she had failed, that she was a nobody, but Hermione did not know why she had failed. She knew that her name was Hermione, that she was a witch, and that she was destroyed by the loss of something or someone, and that she was hurt. She also knew that something bad had happened because the pain in her heart was so great that she didn't think she would ever be able to shut it up. She didn't have time to think about anything else in her life, she had to run. Run as if her life depended on it to escape this monster who kept telling her that she had failed. She could cover her ears, but nothing helped, the voice was only louder. Hermione was lost, she didn't know what she was doing in this place. The mirrors on all sides were taunting her, as if to let her know that she would never find her way out of this labyrinth.
She couldn't take it anymore. But if she stopped, she would be giving reason to the voice that disturbed her so much, she would fail to protect herself. But protect herself from what? She didn't have time to think about it, she just had to run.
She didn't know how long she had been lost in this labyrinth, how long the unhealthy voice had been repeating her faults and past actions. She was alone against this unknown voice, alone in this hell that had become familiar to her over the weeks she had been there.
Hermione did not know what she had done to deserve this fate. She didn't know why she was condemned to wander through this gallery of mirrors, with no hope of getting out. She didn't even know how she had ended up there.
Hermione only wanted one thing, one simple thing, but perhaps she was still too fragile, too broken to accept it.
Hermione just needed someone to reach out to her. She just needed help, she needed someone to be there for her, to guide her out of this maze of mirrors. She needed the pain in her heart to stop, as well as the pain that twisted every inch of her body.
Hermione just needed her heart fixed.