Hermione felt lost. She was shaking from head to toe. Everything about her life was screwed up. She had no one anymore. She was completely alone.

And she was doing just fine. Yeah right.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Was she that ugly?

She stared hard analyzing everything. Her hair was very bushy, but it was still curls. She went farther down her face. Her eyebrows were curly, but light, arching just fine. But they weren't perfectly tamed, like her hair. She had never plucked them in her life. It was better than most. She then stared at her lashes. They weren't dark or long, the were just eyelashes, untouched by mascara. She looked in her brown boring eyes. Nothing special, they weren't special, just brown. She looked at the shape of her eyes. The were just round. And big. She looked at her lower eyelashes, they were barley visible, they were so light.

She then looked at her nose. It was small about an inch long. Slightly freckled. Her nostrils were thin, but her nose was a little wide, sometimes she would get an occasional pimple from stress, but then it would go away quickly. She then looked at her upper lip. She had blonde hair there, practically invisible. She then looked at her mouth, it was luscious, a little wide. She opened her mouth, before she had terrible teeth but now they were straight and white. She then proceeded in looking at her hole entire face. She had an oval shape face, Her jaw slightly squared. Her cheeks bones high. She had an overall okay face, nothing special.

That's what she thought.

She then looked at her body. Her clothes were baggy. Slightly wrinkly. She had a big pink long sleeve jumper on, her zipper was unzipped, showing her pale blue t-shirt. She zipped it up. When she zipped it up it made her look like she had boobs. She scoffed. Yeah right.

Hermione was about a size 34A. It didn't bother her much, until now. She took off her jumper and shirt. Standing in her bra. She looked at her arms. They were pale long and skinny. Not hairy. A little muscle on them. Her shoulder bones sticking out. Her eyes traveled more down. Her hands were elegant. She had long slender fingers, with pretty un polished finger nails, She wore a ring she found one day on her lawn on her left middle finger, were it fit perfectly.. It was thick with a pink small heart in the middle of a sliver rusty looking band. Her knuckles stuck out a little, her wrists were thin and delicate.

She then looked back to her to her stomach. She was skinny. Her hip bones showing a little. But she did have a little bulge, though at her tummy.. Mostly because of her bladder. It would stick out more. She had an inny belly button.

She then looked at her black sweats. They hid her butt and thighs. She took them off. She was now in her white plain underwear. She looked at her hips s She barely even had any. Not much there. She looked at her legs. They were skinny.. Sort of flabby, long, pale. They were kind of like her arms. Besides the few stretch marks on her upper thigh, everything was flawless. Not a scar on them. Not a hair on them. She at least shaves her legs.

She then looked at her feet. They ankles were small. She did have weak ankles anyway. He feet were very pale. She had slight veins popping out of them. Her feet were also thin. She was about a size eight. Her toes were long. Her pinky toe curing to inward. Her big toe was the longest toe. Her toe nails were short. And even. They were painted though. They looked manicured.

She sighed. If her reflection in the mirror wasn't that bad, then why did she feel like the ugliest person? Why does she feel like everyone is staring at her whispering and pointing at her? Making her feel like a caged animal? Making her feel ugly?

She just wanted to be pretty, maybe then people will notice her? May be then someone will see her. For real. Maybe then she wouldn't feel so ugly.

She had silent tears rolling down her face. She felt so lonely. She hugged herself. Trying to calm down before she did something rash. She felt herself slipping from sanity.

It was her fault. She was a freak Ugly. Worthless. Know it all. Brat. Stuck up. Suck up. Mudblood. She was all of that and more. She was just flat out a loser.

She hated herself.

She hated being in her skin. She started clawing at herself, blindingly. Feeling like she could tear out of herself.

Why couldn't she be like everyone? Why cant she be like what people want her to be? Why couldn't she just be normal? Why did she have to be laughed at? Teased at? Hated at?

She started clawing harder, drawing blood. Is that what people want? Her blood? She stumbled to her table in her head girl room. She opened the draws empting everything out. Looking for only one thing.

He hand came across a lime green silky pouch. She pulled the strings. Opening it. She dumped its contents on the floor.

Razor's, scissors, sharp hair pins, pocket knifes, plastic from broken CD cases, glass. Almost anything sharp was in that bag.

Hermione grabbed anything that felt sharp enough. Her hands landed and a piece of plastic. She lifted her left arm. Just a moment before it was flawless, pale. Now it was covered in blood, scratch marks from her nails on her upper arms. She placed the plastic near her elbow. Slashing across the skin. More blood came out of her arm, making her see black dots from the lose of blood.. She sighed, feeling sanity come back to her, but it didn't make her feel any better..

When did Hermione become like this? When did she started thinking so low of herself? When did she start feeling lower than spit?

She hated herself even more now. How could she let herself lose that much control? She was the smartest witch of her age! Since when does she retort to cutting, she's smarter than that! Right? She's not this weak.

She lifted herself off the ground and crawled up to her bed. She had lost a lot of blood, plus the lack of food she had. She was worn out. Both mentally and physically. She didn't know how much more she could take.

Slowly Hermione Granger was killing herself. She only hoped it wouldn't take so long.