Yes, I realize I said that I wasn't going to update until I got 10 reviews. Well, I changed my mind. This is a diary entry (When Leah wrote in her diary last chapter) in a First person PoV. It is the other thing that Professor Dumbledore told her. She is cursed by Voldemort's dead daughter. The details will be revealed soon... This is it until I have 10 reviews, my fellow readers. The faster I get reviews, the faster you get the next chapter. One review each, mind. Enjoy and review friendly...
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or anything else you recognize. They belong to the truly brilliant Joanne Katherine Rowling. I ONLY own Leah Baker and other characters you do not recognize. Also, I got my main idea about the Power from Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series and do not claim ownership to it.
Death. The tempting thought always plagues my weary mind as I try my hardest just to get through another day. I always tell myself that it is just one more day, one more agonizing attempt to get through my accursed life as best I could, and to live and retaliate at those who had made it such a miserable mess. It was the easy way out, though almost an act of cowardice. I could finally be with my parents, and Annie. Gods how I miss her. But the hard thing was that the one who had made my life a living hell was dead. And yet, she was still alive. I am trapped. There is no escape, no light at the end of the tunnel, or any sort of hope. In all practicality, I am cursed. Not by a figure of speech, heavens no, I'm not that lucky. If I had managed to sleuth by without falling hopelessly into this damnable wizarding world, maybe, just maybe I might have been able to prevent the deaths of my parents, and the fate bestowed upon be by Naomi Elaine Riddle. There are too many "What ifs," and, "If onlys," that float across my thoughts. But, in the end, it is all my fault. I am the reason why my parents are dead. I could escape most of the pain I withstood here on earth, but if I did kill myself, she would be waiting. The dead always know what is happening here on earth. And if I did kill myself, she would know. She always knows. So it is here and now that I find myself, confessing my deepest, most darkest pains and strife to this diary, pouring my thoughts and feelings into some book as my hand races across the surface, bouncing the ideas off myself. I have thought of many ways to escape, to flee from my life, and each way was just as enticing as the next. But in the end, when it all gets boiled down into the bare, truthful facts, I almost laugh in spite myself, for the truth is almost as bitter and hopeless as I am. There is no way out. I am stuck in this sad excuse of a life, whether it be dead or alive, until one of us is bullied out into the mere state of nonexistence. As far as I am concerned, I am fighting a loosing battle. Quite frankly, it terrifies and angers me at the same time. If you thought you had problems that were worth shedding tears over, you haven't walked a mile in my shoes. A mile where I could be in someone else's shoes, enjoying that mile, and milking it for all that it is worth. Not fleeing for my life in some godforsaken forest, or found cowering somewhere, pleading for some kind of mercy, in any size, shape or form. I've mourned my loses too long. Sure, I miss my parents and Annie, but you never get anywhere pitying yourself. Now, I have it all planned out. I am going to kill Naomi Riddle, once again, even if it is dragged into the afterlife. My existence now consists of the colorful act of vengeance, and of proving to myself that I will make it out on top. For once. And if I am killed before I fulfill my personal goals, then so be it. Let the exchange between good and evil, and the living and dead begin. Because when Naomi does show her face, I'll be waiting for her. I'll always be waiting.
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