july end, 1995
cedric,
what is a life without the one who made you feel alive?
it is a constant anguish, a hole carved inside your once healing heart, it is a void you cannot escape from.
i cannot feel anything.
i cannot feel anything unless i am inhaling the remains of the disintegrated pills i had stolen from the pharmacy near my house.
i am at this house i do not recognize, surrounded by people who are working to destroy the person who took me away from you. i am in this room no one enters, because why would anyone want to enter a room which belonged to a slytherin death eater who is a brother of an assumed mass murderer (yes assumed, because he isn't one really, framed by a rat- at least that's what i had caught on)
i am in this room which is so heavily decorated with green and silver that i am sick to my stomach, reminded of us slow dancing during the rain.
i inhale, and i see you in all your glory, with those perfectly toned arms, soft brown hair, striking grey eyes and a heart full of love.
you're looking at me full of adoration, and you're telling me that everything is going to be alright.
and then i exhale, and reality strikes me like a hard punch to the stomach and i lie down on the creaking bed, staring at the ceiling trying, and failing, to accept the fact that you're gone.
you're gone, and you aren't coming back.
yours,
june harwood
