The Journal of Beatrice Grace Parker

How I killed Voldemort

It all started when I was 13. And since Dr. Russell has specifically told me not to hold back, I will try to narrate this as honestly as possible. But let me warn you, I am mental. So everything I say may not make sense to you. Hell, it may not make sense to me in the first place. But that does not mean that you are not mental. In fact, I'm sure you are, just in a different way. So anyway, it all started when I was 13.

Now obviously I'm a girl, since I already revealed my name, but I don't think I will add too much information, because although I badly wish that I were dead before you read this, the World is not a Wish-granting Factory (Okay, I'm totally taken with TFIOS, but hey, who isn't? – If you aren't, TFIOS stands for 'The Fault in Our Stars' and I love the novel AND the picturization, so I do go about quoting it a LOT) and so on the off-chance that you do read this when I'm still alive and kicking, I don't want you snooping around. Let it suffice to say that I live in a particular city, and have lived here for a while.

So now, when I was 13, I had a life, okay? I went to school, kicked ass, had classmates and what not. But I also had a crush on this particular boy, whom I'm going to call Voldemort (no, I was NOT mental when I decided on the nickname), and for a reason. This particular boy was named Alexander Thomas Riddle (if you don't know, then Voldemort's real name was Tom Riddle. And I meant 'real name' as in the proper given name of the fictional character). And that was not my fault. Anyway, it began when he asked me my name.

"Beatrice Grace Parker" I had said, quietly, not really wanting to divulge any more details to this boy who still had not told me his name.

"Grey-Sparker! What sort of a surname is that?" he commented, foolishly. At least I thought he was being super-dumb, but I patiently replied, "It's G-R-A-C-E 'Grace' and P-A-R-K-E-R 'Parker', and not Grey-Sparker." He grinned and said "Okay, Beatrice Grey-Sparker, nice to meet you. I'm Alexander Thomas Riddle." He enunciated every syllable carefully, because he knew I would be hunting for some way to mess up his name, too. But he didn't need to be careful. Because I had easily spotted the Tom Riddle in his name. "Pleased to meet you too, Voldemort" I said, fighting to keep my face straight as he registered surprise and cracked a small smile. Suddenly, we ended up laughing like we'd been friends all our lives.

 So this boy Voldemort and I had this friendship which was a little more than friendship because we were ardent Potterheads (it is what we real Harry Potter fanatics call ourselves). I've always liked to read the book and then go watch the movie, the most fun part of which is to comment on how the movies are different from the book and act superior. It just makes you feel so satisfied that you spotted more differences than everyone else. It does, for me, at least,

Ummm... so this Voldemort fella and I, we were really into the Harry Potter series, okay? Like JKR was totally the best thing that happened to the world. But then, one day, we had a fight. We were on the roof of the school, and the building was just four floors high, but it was super-windy. And Voldemort just stared at me angrily, but I kept up the bickering. Just as I almost conceded (I do NOT concede arguments. I just like to think I would have conceded that's all) he lost control and shoved me. I was practically shouting to his face, and it was inevitable that things would come to this. But still I find some comfort in the fact that he shoved me first. Otherwise I never could have lived with what was to come. So I shoved him back, but we both kind of lost our balance, and finally ended up dangling from the parapet. And here I wished I were braver. Just a little bit. I wished I were selfless. Just a little bit. So I almost pulled myself over the edge, but before I could help him, he slipped, and fell straight down. I lost my own grip and fell, myself. And here I wished I had been a little stronger. Just a little bit. I wished I were faster. Just a little bit.

The World may not be Wish-granting Factory, but it seemed like a good place to be. Even for 13 year old girls with split skulls and dead best-friends. Because the fall had killed Voldemort. And I was stupidly whispering his nickname, holding his hand, wishing that he opened his eyes and smiled. Wishing that he argued with me. Wishing he did anything but lie there in silence like a broken Ken doll. But the World is not a Wish-granting Factory.

If only I had done something, been more heroic or something, and saved him instead of me! (I can't believe it myself, but I still wish I had)

Thank you, @sociopathic_ , for the brand new cover for my novella...

Dear reader, it would be awesome if you could check out Angel Hills by @sociopathic_ who is a brilliant author as well as an amazing designer.

I love you if you're reading this and have decided to read on :)