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Old 06-08-2011, 10:12 PM   #3 (permalink)
crookshanks_kitty
Ravenclaw
Firecrab
 
Join Date: Aug 2009
Location: Canada
Posts: 795

Hogwarts RPG Name:
Parmis
Fifth Year
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carrot lover (not) // torturously friendly // secret spy // HP nerd // <3 sparkles // who am I?

Ooh my first reader!!! Feel free to stalk this thread any time my friend. I welcome stalkers not that I'm a stalker myself It's alright, I knew it'd be a hard one. Hint: Look to the top! The name... *cough cough*


Silent Suffering/ Loud Laughter

It was done; it was over, at least in their eyes. “Congratulations,” they all said, “you finished him for once and for all!” He smiled and could only accept their praising. He was accustomed to it all; one always had to be recognized as the hero. So many hands that reached out to shake his, so many outstretched arms that longed to embrace him, so many cameras that constantly snapped pictures of him, and yet he could only put on a fake smile and endure the unwanted attention. Flashes of the cameras irritated him; at times he almost lost control of his posture and wanted to seize the device and break it in half. Yet he contained himself and only smiled at the photographers.

“Goodness me, you still look exhausted,” and so they forced food down his throat, as if that would invigorate him. Yes he was ill, but in order to cure his illness one had to reach to his soul and sew the deep wound that stretched across his heart. It was painful. It itched, it twitched, and it felt hollow yet overflowed with emotions. So many emotions that he could not make sense of them all at once threatened to drown him, yet he kept it together and contained himself before it would burst and engulf him entirely. It was however chewing on him from the inside, a soundless and a slow process that only made it so much worse.

The natural reaction to this silent suffering would perhaps be to cry. Anyhow, that’s what you’d do to relieve yourself if there was a great deal for you to bear alone. There was only so much that one individual could stand. Even for the master of endurance that he was, he never had to put up with such a circumstance. This went beyond his capacity. Yet he was numb and his eyes had dried out.

On the bright side—as everyone continuously reminded him—their main struggle was over, they had won the battle over evil; most of them had survived. Most, but not all… Another slash to his heart. He grinded his teeth and remained quiet. He only wished that his chest would cut open and from the gap would escape his heart. At least that way he’d not be able to feel anymore. Not to feel… it must be so much easier. Those who did not make it can rest in peace now; they have nothing to worry about. They have moved on. Yet he happened to have survived through it all and had witnessed their loss. Sometimes, death is so much easier than survival. It’s painless and quick. The deceased move on, while the survivors are trapped in their conscious body. They can feel, hence they suffer.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He was not truly struck by the realization of how heavy his survival had weighed on him and how profound the affect of that incident was until the third night. Exactly three nights after the epic battle, as all across the Wizarding World festivities were thrown and glasses of fire whisky were raised to the name of the boy who had survived and saved them all, he was hit hard. He was shell shocked.

His feeble body shook like a leaf, he threw a tantrum and yelled on the top of his lungs as he laid there sleeping on his bed. He gripped hard onto his bed sheet. His face and neck were drenched in sweat.

“Someone wake him!” the girl in long ginger silky hair cried. But everyone was afraid to get near him. They assumed that it would pass, yet felt uncertain of what they ought to do in order to help him. Really it is not an easy situation to be in, they were at loss for what to do. It was a horrific image of the once cheerful boy they knew to be their best friend, now breaking apart so miserably. They had seen him in a down mood and in agony, yet this was much worse than any of the previous situations. They could only watch in terror. This was exactly what they had dreaded.

In the morning he could not remember any of it. They asked him whether he recalled his dream and he only denied of ever having a nightmare or doing any of the stuff they mentioned. There was only one thing that he could pronounce. “It hurts.” While everyone asked for which part of his body he was referring to, only the girl in ginger hair understood and responded, “it will get better… eventually.”



-Ava. G-

Last edited by crookshanks_kitty; 06-09-2011 at 05:43 AM.
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