They were all gone.

He stared from the window, eyes unseeing. Watching the bright blue sky and the yellow sun as it smiled down on a deliciously warm summer day.

And yet he was cold. Deathly cold. Like them.

They were all gone.

They were all dead.

He could still remember that day when they had died.

He could still hear their screams, echoing in his head.

They had told him it would get better... but it didn't.

He could still hear their screams... over and over... begging for mercy, for pity, for him to end it all.

Even after it was over, after he was dead, he could hear their screams.

Even after they were all dead, he could hear their screams.

They haunted him, day in and day out.

He had actually gone to the dementors, begging them to take his soul.

Begging them to stop the pain.

Begging them to kiss him, their cold eternal kiss.

But they had held him back. They who survived.

They told him that it would get better.

They told him that the screams would stop.

They told him that it was over now.

But it wasn't over.

Because they haunted him.

They haunted him day in and day out.

Even after he place his wand to his head and made sure he heard nothing at all, he still heard their screams.

There was no sound, no sound at all.

But the sound of their screams was still there.

And even in the silence he felt dead.
Response to a LadySilver challenge... www. geocities. com/ windofwolf/ window.html (without the spaces).