His face was translucent. His eyes glassy. His blonde perfect hair gelled back. He sat in an armchair at the fireplace. The fire roared but brought no colour to his face or warmth to the room. He forced a smile as the other students walked past and off to bed.

Everyone was asleep now. His eyes were dropping but not because he was tired. He thought constantly of his life. Not his life. The choices were not his? How could this be classed as his life! He thought as he took out a silver blade. He slid the blade across his hands greedily. The blade moved to his ribs as he retraced the now scars of his before attacks. The knife slit the new soft skin happily. Feeling the relief Draco tilted his head back
'the last relief' he muttered.
Labyrinths? People have their own. Draco has his parents. Nothing was his. Not his. His parents.
The blade resurfaced slowly as the blood streamed out quickly.
Draco took the blade again. Finding new places for the blade to be entered and old scars that needed to be reopened. His limbs became heavy. His vision danced with black spots. This was his.
Would he be missed?
Has he escaped?

This white skin was overtaken with dried blood. His eyes broken. His hair messed up with blood streaked through it.
The last of Draco Malfoy life. The last. His last.

Sorry its depressing- reviews are welcomed. Thanks for reading.