The Monster Within

The Monster Within.

I scream. Because if I don't, I might start crying. And I can't. I can never allow myself to weep ever again - I hate myself too much. It burns my insides, this hatred which grows within me, like the monster it is, and its poisonous radiance consumes me steadily. This is why I have to scream, have to yell, spit and hurt, trash furniture and tear pictures off the walls.

My baby sister, who's not a baby at all anymore, but still my baby sister, scream too. She screams at me, begs me to stop, tears are staining her face and-

I smash a mirror because those tears aren't mine, can never be mine.

Mother has stopped trying to over-voice me with her howling, and tries to comfort Ginny instead, ignoring the insults and accusations I thrust at her, even though the pain they inflict is shining clearly on her face. She doesn't say a thing when I toss a saucer across the room and it explodes against the far wall, the pieces scattering all over the floor.

Ginny runs upstairs, crying worse than I've ever seen her, but it doesn't make me stop. I can't stop. It's much too late for that now, no matter whether I want to or not, I can never go back, because things never do.

Mother doesn't try to hush me, or grab and hold me in her affectionate ways of comfort. She dares not, because that's what started this. This time. Yet, she doesn't scream back either, doesn't lose her temper and slap me or curse me. Instead she conjures a broom to sweap the bits of porcelain off the floor, without a word, because despite all, she loves me.

And I hate her for it.

I can't help it. It's a creature inside of me, taking over my body. A monster. An ugly, vile monster of hatred and anger and repressed sorrow, and it is not in my power to control it.

They tell me I need to let it out, not the monster but the tears it refuses to let go of. They tell me I need to grieve in order to move on - clearly they don't understand at all. As if I'd want to move on. As if I'd want to forget.

Might be I'm hurting myself, but the pain is all I have to cling to. And they want to take it away. Clearly they don't understand, clearly they don't want what's best for me at all.

I need to cry, they say. But I can't. I can never cry again. I didn't cry at his funeral, and I won't cry now. Because crying would mean accepting, and accepting it would make it real. And I don't think I'd be able to keep myself from falling apart then.

Mother is sitting on the floor, weeping now too. Her tears are mocking me and I sneer at her as she looks up at me with her pleading eyes. My fists are clenched so tightly, they tremble, but now I'm calm. Though my face has drained of colour and my eyes are burning with rage.

"Please Ron..." my mother begs, her voice quivering like a whimper, "I don't know you anymore! You're not yourself..."

"Shut up!" I snap, sounding like a growling werewolf, and the monster grows a bit more as I watch more tears spill over her lashes.

"Harry wouldn't like you like this..." she whispers.

What follows next, is a deadly silence. I hear nothing but a ringing in my head, and blood pounding in my ears, as my vision is filled with the colour red. Blood red.

"Harry" I say quietly, "is... dead... and the Ron you speak of... died with him."

That said, I turn on my heel and fly out of the house through the back door, slamming it loudly behind me and start running. I don't know for how long I run, and where to, but I just know I need to keep moving. Need to keep moving away. The ringing in my ears is deafening, I can feel my pulse quicken and just as I think my chest is about to explode from the pressure inside, it all stops.

I stop.

Where there used to be anger and hatred and the red sound of heartbeats, there is nothing but a silence and calm, a big void, swallowing me whole. I into my pocket numbly and take out my wand, my eyes firmly fixed on a spot in the air infront of me, and my hand doesn't even tremble anymore as I hold the wand up and point it against my own heart.

Perhaps-

My sight blurs, and two tears slide down my cheeks slowly, as I gasp for breath and utter the words; "Avada..."

THE END