Dying/Living

Dying/Living

The candlelight sent long shadows over the paper; the black ink from the pen formed letters on it. And the letters became words together.

Dear Diary, she wrote.
That was all. She had no idea how to continue, what to write. How should she explain what had happened today, what she had done?
"Why can't I write it?" she asked herself.
Because that would make it real. She didn't want it to be real, she didn't want to have done what she had done.
How could she? How could she do it?
She could feel a tear falling down her cheek. Every time she closed her eyes, she would see his eyes. His young, innocent, dead eyes.

I have killed today, she wrote slowly in her thin, beautiful, weak handwriting. The tear from her cheek fell down towards the paper, mixing with the ink in "today", making it impossible to read. Maybe that was for the best. It didn't matter that it was today, did it? No. She had killed. That was all there mattered; it didn't matter when. She had killed.

I can't believe I did it, she wrote. No, that was wrong. She could believe it. She had always known that one day she would kill. She was raised to do that. "Show no mercy," her parents had told her. "Kill those who get in the way," was the Slytherin lie. When she had been younger, it had only been symbolic - kill them, destroy them - but she had quickly learned, that one day it wouldn't be, not anymore. It would be real, true. Show no mercy.
Kill.
And she had done it. She bit her upper lip.

I don't want to believe it, she wrote slowly. That was the truth. She could believe it, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to believe she had done it, that she had killed him, that she had hit him with the green light of the Avada Kedavra curse.

He was just a boy, she wrote. A little boy with no idea of what was going on.
They, he and his family, hadn't known anything about what was going on. They were just muggles, and there had been no warning, so the Order hadn't had a chance to do anything. They were unprepared.

I hate mudbloods, she wrote. I truly do. They have no right to enter our world. They are destroying it, they are destroying our world. But, that is just my opinion. Who am I to judge? Can I judge muggleborns? Do I have the right?
No, I don't.
I don't have the right to judge.
She stopped and looked at the written words. It was what she felt. She hated, but who was she to judge? She had never really talked to one - insults didn't count - nor had she ever questioned her father about this. And these feelings she had for mudbloods and muggleborns, were something her father had given to her. He had told her that muggleborns destroyed their society. And she had never questioned it. She had always believed it. And she still did. They were dirty, those mudbloods.

But this family wasn't mudbloods, they were muggles, and they did not know anything about us. They did not know anything about magic. Why should they die? Why should we kill them? Was there a reason?
No. There was no reason. None other than our - their - enjoyment. They like to kill, I saw it in their eyes - Draco's, Greg's, Vince's, Father's... Didn't they see that it was human lives they took?
No, they didn't. They didn't see the muggles' eyes, full of horror. They didn't hear their screams, full of pain. All they saw was their over life, over muggles.
But I saw it. I saw the horror in their eyes. I heard the scream of pain. I saw what I had done. I had killed. I had taken an innocent's life.
Inside herself could she still see it, still hear it, still smell it, still feel it. His eyes, too young to see his parents be murdered, full of horror and pain. And then, they were death. No light would ever shine in them again. He was dead. And his was dead at her hands.
She closed her eyes, trying to stop crying. She couldn't, and when she opened her eyes again everything was blurry - unreal. She blinked angrily several times; wiped the tears away. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't!

I can't do it again, she wrote, her hands shaking. I can't kill again. I can't take a life again. I just can't!
The truth was awful, but she just could not. She could never kill again, not ever. She knew that. Killing others was slowly killing her; killing her soul.

But what shall I do? She wrote, asking herself. They will kill me if I back out. No one says no to the Dark Lord.
She bit her upper lip. It was something special about her, biting her upper lip. Her mother had always said that it was ugly, that it made her unladylike, but she had never listened. That one little thing was the only thing she didn't care what her parents thought about. And after some time her mother had stopped talking about it. It had been a small victory, but nonetheless a victory. And now she would not only fight against what her parents wished, but also all her friends. And His - the Dark Lord's.
No one said no to him.
She had seen it when she got her Mark. It had been a warning not to go against his orders. Back then she had been much more scared than disturbed. But, there was a difference between seeing someone get killed and killing someone yourself. She knew that now.

Just as she knew that she would get killed if she said no to him. He would probably not kill her himself - she wasn't that important, she knew - but he would send someone after her.

I don't want to die, she wrote slowly, trying to figure out what to do. But I can't do it again. I can't kill again. His eyes are still hunting me. I can see them when I close mine. I don't want to see more death. Never. It is killing me, seeing death all the time. But they will kill me if I say no. I can't say no.
Unless I get protection, she thought. Maybe... No. She doubted that the Order would protect her if she didn't give them something back. But what could she give? She had nothing to give, nothing to trade protection for.

Well, she had one thing....

Maybe the Order will protect me if I give them some names? Just a few, I don't think can give them all. But maybe a few? Names of people they know, but don't have evidences against? she asked herself.
Maybe I can give them some evidence? I can maybe be a witness. Then I'm sure they will protect me.
I think.
Oh, sweet Salazar, I don't know what to do! Can I even get myself to inform against them? Them, my friends? No. I can't betray Draco, Greg, Vince... not my old friends. I just can't! They would never do that to me. We are Slytherins, yes, but we are always faith...
She stopped in the middle of "faithful". Was it true? Were they always faithful to their friends? Would they not betray her?
The truth hit her in her face. She knew them in and out, but it was first now that she realised what she knew. There was no doubt in her mind.
They would betray her without hesitation.

No, forget that. I can do it. I can give them names, known and unknown. I can bear witness against them. All I want, all I need, is protection. Yes, I can do this. I can get out of this. I can. I can even get his eyes stop hunting me. I can.
Yes, she could. She could betray them. She breathed slowly while she mumbled it to herself as a mantra.
"I can do this. I can do this. I CAN!"
She quickly put her hands to her mouth. She had to be careful, destroy all evidence of these traitorous thoughts, be quiet about it. Which meant no screaming, no talking. She should be quiet. No words. Nothing.

Nobody must know anything about this, nobody. I must destroy all evidence of these thoughts. If they find [it] out, they will kill me immediately. I must destroy these pages. I must burn them, she wrote slowly. She nodded to herself.

Before she ripped the pages out of the diary and burned them in candleflame, she wrote her name with her beautiful, elegant, and strong handwriting.

Love,
Pansy Parkinson.