The Process of Elimination (Who am I?)

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I can't believe that this has happened to me.

I really cannot believe it.

Sometimes I just look and I wonder, what would've happened if I did it this way, or if I did it that way, or if I was just a better person. What would've happened?

It was all my fault. I hate myself. I'm a horrible person. I wish I were dead.

I never wanted any of it to happen. I really didn't. But I couldn't help it. But there's nothing that I can do now. It's too late.

Let's see if you can figure out who I am.

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It all started at Hogwarts. It was my seventh year. I was doing my Potions NEWT exam when the pain just started. It went and it went and it just wouldn't stop. I fell to the floor and I screamed. I screa and screamed it was so painful. I screamed because it hurt, and I screamed because I was so shocked. This hadn't happened for a long time, and I was scared of what it meant. I was really scared.

Once the pain had subsided I just lay there, on the ground, sobbing. Everyone was looking at me but I really didn't care. I didn't care about any of them any more. Fuck them all. They only pretended that they cared about me- they really didn't, though. I knew that they didn't.

McGonagall had come up to me and she offered me a hand to help me up, but I didn't take it. At that particular moment I really hated her as well. She was just the same as the rest of them. I knew that she pitied me; but as far as really caring? She didn't.

She offered to help me to the hospital wing but I ignored her. I walked straight out the doors to the Great Hall and out to the lake. I always liked it there. It had this calming feeling, this comfortable, serene feeling that always made me feel better, no matter how bad I felt.

I sat down at the edge of the lake and took my shoes off. I dipped my feet in and played around with the little grass that grew there. And then I put my head in my hands and I cried. I was so tired of it all. Nobody cared. Even those who called themselves my best friends didn't even care. Come to think of it, there were more pretentious bastards in this school than I had ever realised! Screw them. I was so tired of them not giving a fuck about me, so now I can't give a fuck about them.

I took out my tiny pocket knife and played with it. I popped open the blade and ran my finger along the sharp edge, bringing a trickle of blood to the tip of my finger. I shivered with anticipation. Then I had a strange thought. What would happen if I slid the blade along my wrist? So I tried it.

The sensation was wonderful. It was so exhilarating- it was like I could just let go of all of my pain. It freed me.

Then I heard those footsteps behind me. Those dreaded footsteps. Then who should I see but McGonagall. Again. I cursed under my breath.

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I am not Ginny Weasley.