I had promised myself I wouldn't cry, but I couldn't help myself. Salty tears poured down my face, leaving my cheeks blotchy and red. I pressed my hand against the glass and choked, "I love you too."
The body in the room lay still and unresponsive, no rise and fall of his chest to suggest that this was all a nightmare.
I stayed to watch as they undid the restraints and dumped him onto a stretcher. Then he was gone, and a shaking man was brought into the room in his place. I left the viewing box, after all this stranger meant nothing to me.
If life really was as disposable as this, then why did I feel so empty?
Was it justified to discriminate against people, purely because the past generations of their family were poor?
I knew the answer to neither question, nor did I wish to. Everything was easier before I met him. The messy haired man that taught me to question what I had always blindly believed in. The man who had dragged me so far out of my comfort zone that I knew I could never return.
Harry Potter. We were the men who dared to love in a world that condemned what we had. And you were left to shoulder the blame when it all came crashing down around us. You lost your life but in a way you didn't have anything to live for in the first place.
You called me a perfect monster but it is you who was perfect. We super-humans may be beautiful on the outside, but on the inside, we're ugly. Prejudice and discrimination does that to a person. It leaves their insides bitter and burnt out.
Perhaps we should all take a step back and ask ourselves this:
Who is it really that should be called execrated? The people who are desperate for life, or the people who take it from them?
YOU ARE READING
The Execrated
FanficSociety deemed them to be sub-human. My father told me that they were all inferior. I had grown up believing that they were animals. But then I met him. And he was perfect in every way. *. *. *. *. *. A short Drarry story imagining wh...
