Untitled #3
“…George? Are you okay?”
There was no reply.
“George?”
The call was slightly frantic this time-it was accompanied by knocks on the door.
However, there was still no response.
Then came a different voice, “George, don’t be such an idiot! We all know you’re mourning about Fred’s passing-but we’re all depressed about it, so stop worrying mum and being so self-centered-”
And the door slammed open.
“Don’t assume that you know how I feel! You have no idea what I’m going through-none of you! So just shut up and leave me alone!” George finally snapped, glaring at all those gathered at the door to his room.
“George, we’re just trying to help-” Mrs Weasley began.
“But you’re just making things worse! Just go away!” he shouted back.
After calming down and seeing his mother’s wounded face, he said in a softer tone-“I know that you’re trying to help, but it’s not working right now. I need time to myself.”-As he shut the door and locked it.
They don’t understand. None of them do.
None of them understand how tired I am.
None of them understand how life is without Fred.
Life without Fred-is like I’m not living at all.
***
George seemed to get worse by every passing day.
He slowly stopped talking at all-he stopped going out of the room, barely bothered with eating or drinking, and was almost always huddled in his bed, staring at pictures of him and Fred together.
To him, it seemed like it was yesterday that Fred died.
To him, it seemed like it was yesterday their bond had been severed by death.
To him, it seemed like it was yesterday that a part of him was gone-lost forever.
He’d known-the moment that Fred had died, he knew that he would never see Fred smiling at one of his pranks again.
He knew that, but he didn’t want to believe his instincts; he didn’t want to believe that their bond had been cut, and that Fred-and only Fred-had been cruelly snatched away by Death.
So he held on to the small bit of hope that Fred was alive, and that Fred dying was only a figment of his imagination.
But then, he saw Fred’s body…
…And he wailed.
The small spark of hope had been blown out.
There was no hope anymore.
There was no meaning.
***
He continued existing-emptily.
He became like a zombie; becoming so thin that all you could see were skin and bones, and with dark rings underneath his eyes.
A ghost of his former cheerful self.
The memories of Fred and him laughing together over a prank or something similar seemed like they had happened a long time ago.
A time, almost forgotten.