Each step he took seemed to last a lifetime. Whenever his foot hit the floor, a thousand more thoughts would cloud his already hectic mind.
What are you going to do now, George?
How are you going to survive alone?
How could you not have felt it, when he died? Shouldn't you have felt something?
He can't really be dead ... can he? This all must be some very twisted joke, right?
What's the point of continuing to fight? Without Fred, there's no reason to live.
The group of redheads was looming closer, and George's emotions became blurred and unrecognizable. Anger mixed with the pain and the grief and the terror, and all he felt was a bone-deep ache.
When he finally made his way to his family, his mother cried "George!"
He opened his mouth to tell her that he wasn't George if there was no Fred, but all that came out was a gut-wrenching half-sob, half-gasp.
And then there was silence, as they all gazed upon the body on the floor.
Yay for Harry Potter fanfiction. Even if it is slightly depressing. sad
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My Bogus Ramblings.
This journal is exactly what it's title says it is: Bogus Ramblings. I might write about what's pissing me off, or maybe I'll throw in some fanfiction. Maybe I'll even write my own story.
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