A day without Rain.

AN:  Well most of my stories have explored Harry as the happy young man.  Dark thoughts sometimes but on the whole an optimistic person.  Meet unhappy Harry.  Tell me what you think. Review PLZ!

I don't want to live and I don't want to die. I just don't want to be.

People close to me.  They pretend they know.  They pretend they understand. But they don't.

They don't hear my words.  They hear what they want to hear. 

They believe that I am well.  If they looked closer...would they see the real me?  I have never been well.  Scars and cuts and broken bones?  Yes on the outside I am well...but inside there's a flood of emotions.  A dam that is banked up.  Keeping back the flood from others eyes.  But the dam cracks a little sometimes.  Cedric...Sirius. 

They believe it is not my fault they died.  But it is.  Blame falls on no one else.  They deny it.  But I know.  I killed them. 

They believe I'm a hero.  How can I be a hero?  Me of all people.  How is surviving when you desperately don't want to, heroic?  I don't pretend that I'm perfect...yet they believe it.  Like I've hypnotised them into believing.  Preached until they've become brainwashed.  

Only one sees me for who I really am...through sneer remarks and angry threats he tells me.  He knows me.  Anger and hatred courses through him as it does me but for different reasons.  I have noticed him.  How he's different now. I dream to walk in his shoes.  To walk beside him.  To be him.  To hate and be hated...behind blue eyes.

Despair.  My only friend.  The only thing that has stayed with me for these months.  These years.  One would think that I'd be happy to go back to where I'm treated like a god.  But I'm not.  I'd rather sit here in the darkness, alone.  For that's where I truly belong.  In the darkness.  Punished into living a life of solitude, of pain.  Continuous rain pounding down.  Never ceasing, never letting-up.  Pounding on me, stinging me, whipping me.  How I crave a day without rain.

It always comes down to me.  I'm destined to kill or be killed.  It's oddly strange how there is one option that rounds both of them up.   Kill myself. 

But alas no.  I don't deserve the agony of living to end so soon. I deserve the pain.  What I've done to Hermione and Ron...  I deserve to live, forever knowing of the pain I've brought them.  Everything is my fault.  It's all my fault.  All my fault.  All my fault.  And they cannot see this?  They lie.

It tears me apart day after day.  Just living here while so many others have been killed because of me.  If I had just died things would be so much easier.  But there are other ways of releasing.

A silver flash followed by a stream of crimson silk.  It as always makes everything better.  I'm not obsessed with it.  It might seem like I am at times.  But it's my only relief. 

My escape out of this circle that surrounds me. 

My escape.

My knife.