My Only Side

I catch them all the time. They can't hide from me. Sometimes I think they know I follow them, not simply doing it because I can, but doing it for my own good. They don't know though.

I watch them from the shadows, growing more jealous each time they meet; each time he touches her in a way I only wish I could. They sense me, but never see me. I don't even think they look. They're always too wrapped up in themselves. In each other.

Long periods will go by when they never meet. I always seem to be waiting in vain, always seem to be following them.

Sure I have friends; people I can talk to, people who know me as I know them back. I'm not crazy, so I'm told. But deep down, I wish I was. I wish I was like him in everyway so I might feel her just once. Feel her smile, feel her emotions, feel her warmth.

She's beautiful, I tell myself. What is she doing with him? Why does she spend her every waking moments thinking about him or cherishing him in ink on her hands?

She's a school girl. Nothing but a school girl. I'd be surprised to see what she knows. What she doesn't know. What I could teach her.

I must kill him.

"My book! What have you done with it?" I yell as I search the whole common room and dormitory, looking for my Care of Magical Creatures book. I've looked everywhere: the couches, the tables, my trunk. It can't be found.

"You two did something with it, I know it!"

I know they haven't, but I always blame my problems on them; a habit I must break. I only have five more minutes. I let out a scream of anger and no patience.

"Give me yours!" I force the snapping book out of his hands. He stands there, dumbfounded. I am aware of everyone staring at me, so I throw the book back at him.

"Hopefully we won't need it today," I mutter as I run out of the common room. I continue to run as fast as I can to the great oaf's house where we have our lessons. I despise him.

"A little late, are we?" he says as I skid in past the fence.

I am out of breath and can not speak, so I merely shake my head.

"Well, as I was saying, we won't be needing our books today."

I am lucky. He keeps talking. I look around.

He is standing there next to them as he has been doing since the first year of our schooling. They are not listening to the prune, but are instead, whispering quietly about something. I care not what it is.

Soon the lesson is over and I head to the Great Hall for lunch. I am not hungry and I do not intend to eat. Instead, I intend to follow them again. Just once more, I keep telling myself.

They always escape to the hall of the kitchens, where no one goes. I always follow them, too. I've been doing this since fifth year. Since it all started.

Sometimes they talk for a while, sometimes they get right to it. All I know is that they never get caught. Except by me.

I watch them with slitted eyes from behind the statue of Heraline, the goddess of mystery. It's happening slowly, giving me time to work out my plan.

He is never alone. He's always being watched by someone. His friends, his teachers, or her. I figure I can dispose of him in the bathroom, but I don't want to make a mess, so I carefully continue watching them.

I must stay still. My breathing must be solid. I can not sneeze. I can not cough and if I fidget, I will be discovered. I'm quite good at it now. Practice makes perfect, I suppose. But I can never be perfect. Never perfect enough for her. Never perfect enough without her.

They leave and I leave behind them, still watching them. Ever alert.

I sit down on the couch in a depressed state. Many people come to comfort me or hand me advice and I cooly refuse it. No one bother me, I think.

They sit down next to me, not moving unless I tell them to, not breathing unless they have permission.

They're always here to do my bidding; always here to do what I tell them.

I've figured out what I want them to do.

"Why?" he grunts. He's never been put up to a challenge like this before.

"Because I say so, that's why," I argue. "Do it."

They share a glance and I shove them out the door, hoping they are smart enough to remember my directions. I hear their foot steps die down as they walk the halls to find them.

"Have fun," I whisper.

Sometimes I love myself, even when I am about to commit my mind.

They returned and I paid them heavily. I couldn't bear to put them up to this sort of thing without giving them some kind of reward.

There he lies. Still as my heart is now. I had him paralyzed.

I step over his legs, his eyes follow me in horror.

What are you doing? he thinks. I can't believe you.

Well you should.

The poison wears off in two hours; just enough time for me to finish my deed.

I take out my knife and artistically cut him into the little pieces I've always wanted to see him in. He doesn't deserve to live. Not anymore.

His legs I cut off first. No longer will they be able to wrap themselves around her. No longer will they be able to collapse under her breath. One hundred and twenty different pieces are lain beside me.

His arms come off easily, like ripping paper in half. I'd like to see him try to hold her with a passion. Like to see him place his hands on her every curve. They are my trophies. Ninety six pieces are mixed in with his legs.

I've cut through bone. The blood lies there, waiting to easily be cleaned up with one spell.

His torso has been left for me to carve into an intricate design of a preschool level. Triangle, square, circle, star. They're lovely and there are sixty-eight of them.

I have not yet decided what to do with his head. This I put an anti-rotting spell on. It should last nicely. I place it in a plastic bag, then into a covered one. The blood is cleaned up in a flick of my wand. Tomorrow's deed shall be just as, if not more satisfying.

I wake up and find panic. Everyone is going crazy at the thought of missing him. Thankfully, none of them connect me with his death. I go down into the Great Hall. A bad choice. It has been decorated in black, a suit matching that of the other one's death. I can not sit down to eat. There is no food. I sneer at everyone's tears.

They come up to me.

"We didn't kill him, did we?"

"Of course not," I say. "Yesterday was simply a necessity. I thought he had stolen my wallet, so I needed to search his pockets. Naturally he wouldn't let me if he were able to move now, would he? I returned him to normal as soon as I had finished. I have no idea what happened to him after that."

They shake their heads and return to their seats.

They're so thick, I think. I could tell them that cats are born from trees, and they'd most likely believe me.

I call them over again.

"I need you to do one more thing."

Now she is tied to my chair. Her legs are apart. She has been stripped of her clothing.

We are in an empty, deserted room. I have time on my hands.

Tonight will be fufilling.

Now I sit in my dorm, ready to complete my plan. I have a knife in one hand. I leave no note.

I take a deep breath and hold it, as this will be my last. I have killed Harry Potter and gotten my fill of Cho Chang.

I am ready to leave.