Lament for a Broken Heart

Lament for a Broken Heart

She didn't laugh anymore. Her tinkling laugh in the morning just because her father had forgotten to shave a spot on his cheek was gone She didn't smile the way she used to do before it happened either. She didn't behave like she used to before; she wasn't the merry singing little girl she had been before. Before him.

Everything had been so great when they had been together, everything had been so perfect. She had been happy, oh so happy and in love. He had seemed happy as well. They fitted together so well; his arms were made to hang around her waist and her fingers were made to run through his blazing red hair. The way she felt when he kissed her had told her that it was worth going for; it had told her that he was the one for her to spend the rest of her life with.

But he had changed everything. In the end, he didn't think they were perfect for each other. He didn't tell her that he loved her any longer, didn't give her any signs of affection at all. She had thought that it would pass, that it was normal for boys to behave like that. She had been so wrong. He hadn't realized how stupid he had been acting and gone back to normal. He had made the biggest mistake of his live and ruined her with the same actions; he had found somebody else, someone he would rather be with than her. He had broken her heart.

She was lying in the gloomy darkness, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes were blank; they didn't seem to see the ceiling, but something further away. Her mind seemed to drift to distant places, places only she knew. Places where nobody could hurt her; somewhere she could be happy. Somewhere she was still with him.

She turned her head and looked out the window. The sky looked like a blanket of black satin, but no stars were glimmering like freshly cut diamonds on it. It seemed to fit her mood; nothing should sparkle and shine as if nothing had happen when she was feeling so down. Dead, but still breathing.

"Ron", she whispered desperately to nobody at all. Her voice sounded as though it hadn't been used in a very long time. "Ron, why did you leave me? Why did you have to break us up? We where such a good match; nobody could have been better together! Why did you stop caring about me? Why?"

A single tear ran down her cheek, leaving a wet trace for other tears to run in, but she didn't cry any more. Her sorrow seemed to be too big for tears; her heart wouldn't heal just because she shed them. Her tears couldn't change things back to the way they used to be, no matter how much she wanted them to.

The sun was rising behind her, but she didn't seem to care. She just continued to stare blankly at the ceiling. She didn't want to meet another day, didn't want to face the pain and troubles of a new dawn. She didn't want to be around normal people anymore; the dead stays away from the living.

The door knocked and revealed a concerned face; her father had come down to check on her. She got up, assuring him that all was well. She didn't want to trouble him with her worries, didn't want him to try to make things right again. Nobody could fill the great hole of darkness in her heart, none could fill love back into the gap in her heart were it was before. No one could turn back the time and change the way things had happened, and nothing could reinstate her zest for life.

A sigh escaped her lips as she sat up in her bed. She had to face one more day of well-intended advice and counsel. She had to get out of her bed to stop her family from worrying and out of the house to prevent them from seeing that they had every reason to be worried. Nothing could justify her laying her sorrows to their burden; they had enough to bear without her adding one more heavy stone to it.

Her hands had found something on the floor; it was the Daily Prophet from last night. She had scanned through it to check if his name was among those who were known to be dead; she didn't know if she wanted him to be or not. The room was empty of the living; she grabbed a nearby quill and started to scribble on the old newspaper. Every time she wrote, she wrote the same thing: 'Ron'.

The sun was shining mercilessly merrily from the sky when she got out. She wanted to run away from it, hide from the happiness it emitted, but she couldn't. She had nowhere to go but outside, and there were no shadows to be found. Her grief and sorrow were out in the light, but she was a master in disguise. Nobody would have realized how tormented she was by heartache.

Birds might have been singing, warblers might have been singing, but she hadn't noticed any of it. She couldn't have heard it even if she tried to. The screams of pain in her own heart were too loud; the shouts of affliction would drown out any sounds around her every time she moved, every time she breathed, her heart called the same thing, called it like it was calling for its soul mate: 'Ron'.

She had to get home, didn't want her family to wonder where she had gone to. They all wanted her to be happy; she remembered loving them very much at one time. Now, she couldn't remember how it felt like to love somebody. That piece of her heart had disappeared and had been replaced by the darkest and deepest sorrow anyone could ever feel.

The twilight was creeping closer, and she was alone in her room once more. The walls looked solid; the ceiling was the same as before. Once again, she drifted away into some other world only she knew. A soft smile caressed her lips, and she closed her eyes. For the first time of the day, she was happy. As happy as anyone with broken heart and broken dreams can be. Happy in the only place the miserable can be happy; happy in her own mind and in her own imagination.

Someone moved above her head. It didn't make much noise; if she had been her usual self she wouldn't have heard it, and wouldn't have cared even if she by some odd coincidence did. But she was different. The sound tore her away from her world of happiness and back into the world she wanted to fade away. She seemed to remember everything that had happened before she came home from school for her holiday.

The scream of pain that came from her was almost inaudible, but the room was so quiet that it sounded like someone had fired a gun. She stopped herself from letting it last long; her family would be worried if they heard her. The short while she screamed, it was telling about so much pain that it could make anyone cry; it sounded so desperate that anyone who heard it were bound to feel with the poor creature who was making such a pitiful sound.

When she stopped screaming, her emotions came out as tears in stead. She tried to stop herself from it; she had sworn not to cry for him any longer. It was not that she didn't think it was worth it, but her tears couldn't change his mind about her. Her tears started to run quick and thick.

'Ron, oh Ron, why did you do this to me, why did you to this to us?' she whispered melancholy. 'Why did you have to break my heart? Why did you end something so good? Oh, Ron, I still love you! I love you so much it hurts! Can you make me stop lobbing you? Why did you stop loving me?' she sobbed harder with every word.

'Ron...' her voice trailed away into silence, and soon the only sounds in the room was that of her tears hitting the floor. Human ears can not hear their words, but the tears speak just in case someone understands them and can come to comfort the crying. Their sound spoke of a time when she had been happy, but most of all, they spoke of a man.

'Ron.'

All the lights in the room are gone. It takes some time for your eyes to adjust to the light, and some more time to spot the shape that is lying in the bed. After some time, you will realize that it is a girl. Her face is calm, and she looks as though she is sleeping peacefully after a long and happy day. Only she isn't.

For the first time in ages, her heart isn't acing with sorrow. For the first time in months, her mind isn't tormented by the thought of him and his actions. They are gone from her mind and gone form her sorrows. She doesn't feel the pain any longer. It has been washed away from her soul and her soul has been washed away from her body. She washed it away by blood.

When Lavender Brown's parents found her the morning after, it was too late. She had stopped breathing. They were heartbroken and didn't understand why she had done such a thing; they didn't understand why she hadn't talked to them about what was bothering her. They didn't get to hear her last words, do nothing can ever explain it to them.

'I will always love you, Ron...'