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The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

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They Say
By .HateBecomesYou.

 


They Say
HateBecomesYou

A/N: Harry Potter fanfiction. My stomach has been twisting and I feel queasy. Happy birthday, my lovely Pyro-girl, because this is for you, even though I'm broken and dieing.

[ A gift to my beautiful love. ]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They say it was raining... The day when everyone disappeared off the face of the Earth. Except there's no one left to say it now, but one. The Boy Who Lived. The lone survivor of destruction.

They say that when you finally give up, there is no crying. There's nothing but emptiness. Feeling and taste and touch wash over your senses but it doesn't get through. Nothing does, and nothing ever will. You are filled with acceptance. Except it's not really acceptance anymore because you can't even move and you're just so tired, you can't afford to have emotions.

They say that when you go crazy, the world is one big joke.

They say that when you go crazy, the world is a melancholy place.

They say that when you go crazy, there is no world anymore.

It's just like watching a dream.

They say that The Boy Who Lived was no longer a boy anymore, but a young man. A twisted portrait of loneliness and insanity.

They say that he was haunted by the ghosts of the past.

Hermione. Ron. Neville. Sirius. Remus. Dumbledore. Snape. McGonagall. Seamus. Malfoy. Dean. Cedric. Cho. Lavender. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Fred and George. Ginny. His parents.

Tom Riddle. Voldemort.

Thousands more who had died, nameless in the musty darkness, forever etched along the steel wall that surrounded his mind.

They say that he lived alone in the giant, empty halls of Hogwarts, mourning his loved ones and slowly dieing.

They say that he was already dead.

They say that The Boy Who Lived had been dead for a long, long time. Living a dream.

They say that he fell in love. With one of the many distorted images of the mind that haunted him like poltergeists.

They say that he cried every night.

They say that he fucked an imaginary picture in his mind every night.

They say that The Boy Who Lived gave into his own destruction and became the last Fallen Angel of the World.

They say that in his mind, Tom Riddle, Voldemort, seduced him and made him loved.

They say that no one had loved him, that he was merely feeding off his own sanity.

They say that he could never give up, no matter how hard he tried.

They say that he didn't move for days at a time because he was just so tired. He didn't want to feel anymore.

They say he played imaginary Russian Roulette with the imaginary .45 revolver he had found in the Gryffindor common room. And always lost.

They say that he was always hoping.

They say that he wasted away.

They say that he was the greatest of his time. The only of his time.

There is no they, not anymore.

There is only him.

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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