ʜᴘ ~ sᴀᴅ ᴏɴᴇ sʜᴏᴛs||ᴇɴɢ

𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒌 (𝑯. 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓)

(After the war.)

James Arthur – Train wreck

Harry

I was liying on the bed, thinking of how much I should have been dead now. About 3 hours ago I took ten muggle sleeping pills. When after 2 hours nothing happened, I drank two calming potions. I've been waiting for over half an hour, but nothing has happened. Five minutes ago I took my blade and was cutting so well, so hard.

But now my arms are all wet from blood, which doesn't seem to stop pouring out of the wounds. It doesn't hurt, I just feel so...Wasted... Dead.

It's 4 a.m. and I'm deadly staring at the ceiling. The backs of my hands are towards the mattress. My eyes are filled with tears, which won't roll down my pale cheeks, because I'm too tired to cry. Too exhausted.

I haven't eaten for two days. Hermione could have noticed it. Maybe she doesn't know, that I'm lying now and should be diying now? So where are those damn sirens? I don't hear them.

Everyone's asleep, so there's silent. Even clocks has broken about a month ago and they don't tic-tac. People are talking on the street but I'm not listening to them. I hear Ron's snoring, but there's generally silent.

My breath is slow and deep. My legs and stomach are relaxed. My arms... Well, are wet but don't hurt. Only my head is close to explode because of too many thoughts. I'm screaming inside, but I don't have strength to do it in a physical world.

It's like... I was dead.

I am tired and relaxed at once. Isn't it wonderful?

Am I still alive?

I pinched skin on my left wrist. Yes. I hit the back of my head against the mattress. Yes.

'Fuck.' I whispered, a bit angry.

I defeated Voldemort. I should be happy now. But I'm not. I should love Ginny and have fun with my friends, but I just can't. And no one cares about it.

I'm not a Christian, but maybe I should pray? To who? To God I don't believe in and I don't trust? To a saviour, who I need and who doesn't exist?

I've always been lying. I've been lying to my friends, teachers, Sirius, Remus, to everyone. But the most often to myself.

And I regret it. Maybe if I wasn't lying, Sirius wouldn't die? And Remus?And all those people?

I'm broken. I feel like a broken toy, that nobody wants. I've done my work, nobody needs me now. I'm useless now.

And people tell me to have hope. For what? For a better tomorrow? Why not better today? Ah, yes, because we can't change today.

Can somebody pull me out of this?

I know, I've done a lot of bad things and my blood isn't clear and I'm not talking about the blood status.

But maybe somewhere home exists? A place, where I'll feel safe, because I've never felt safe. Home. But where? Is there still a home? A home for me? A place, where I can hide.

Maybe it's not too late to rebuild it? One chance still remains. I'm sorry, I think medicines have started to work. There's no such chance.

I need someone. Someone to be my damn saviour, who can repair me, unsay my lies, unchain the reactions, unburn the ashes.

I've got so many things to do. I have to find a wive, have kids. Ron and Hermione will be so sad. My Merlin, what the best have I done by trying to kill myself?

I need to be pulled out of this. But I don't have a saviour, who would do it?

I yelled loudly.

Ron and Hermione will probably be here in a moment. I took my wand andlocked the door.

I felt tears on my cheeks and hid my face in my hands, curling up in a ball. I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around me, ignoring the fact, that I'm staining it with my blood.

Soon later I had fallen asleep and when I finally opened my eyes, it was morning and Hermione was knocking at my door.

'Yes, I'm alive!' I screamed.

She stopped knocking and went away. I took a quick shower and changed my clothes. Fifteen minutes later I went downstairs to the kitchen.

Hermione was making coffee and Ron was eating sandwiches with tuna, reading a newspaper.

'Hey, Mate.' he said happily.

'Morning.' I muttered under my breath.

'Harry, everything alright? You don't look well.' Hermione asked.

I wanted to sream out right into her face, that no, nothing is alright and I tried to kill myself about three hours ago. I lied again instead.

'Yes, everything's great.'

Am I really going to do it for the rest of my life? Yes.

Not because I like it. Because I have no other choice. Do I? No.

It'll be a fucking amazing life, I know it.