He wandered the house before bursting into a room and collapsing on the floor.
The bookshelf were swiped clear, the mirror smashed with his bare hands. The hot crimson liquid poured down his arm but he didn't care. He grabbed a pice of glass from the floor and drove it through his arm.
The only thing he felt was pain. But not pain from the external damage, his soul was far to damaged to ever heal. The glass rose and sliced through his arm again and again, over and over.
He lay down on the ground and let the tears flood out. A girl died and it was all his fault. He never got to tell her he loved her, or how much he cared for her.
He whispered one final word before the glass rose again and drove into his heart.
"Hermione...."
Okay yes I know that was depressing.
I have been on holiday so I thank you guys for not getting annoyed at no updates.
So here's a lil one shot for you. Xx