she has it all. perfect grades, hair that catches the light just right, a smile that makes everyone feel warm and safe. sheβs the dependable friend, the one you go to when you need advice or a shoulder to cry on. sheβs the sunshine girl, with a prefect badge on her chest and the most popular boy at school hopelessly in love with her.
but no one asks how lily evans is doing. because why would they? sheβs fine. sheβs always fine.
her home is a battlefield. petuniaβs sharp words cut deeper than anyone realizes. she doesnβt even have to yell anymoreβjust the disappointed looks, the cold silences, the way she acts like lily doesnβt exist. like she never mattered. freak, unnatural, worthless.
the war creeps closer every day, and lily feels it like a noose tightening around her neck. her parents are mugglesβtargets. every owl, every headline feels like it could be the one that changes everything. but she doesnβt talk about it. she doesnβt cry. she canβt. everyone is counting on her to be strong.
so she bottles it all up. she smiles, she nods, she listens. but the weight inside her chest gets heavier and heavier, pressing down on her ribs until she canβt breathe.
so she starts cutting because she needs to feel something that isnβt this crushing emptiness. the sharp sting is quick, almost clean, and for a moment, itβs like sheβs in control of the chaos. but then the guilt sets in. the shame. what kind of person does this to themselves? sheβs disgusted, but she canβt stop.
then thereβs the food. at first, itβs not deliberate. she skips a meal here and there because sheβs βtoo busy.β but then she realizes how light it makes her feel, how empty. itβs like sheβs disappearing from the inside out, and that feels like a kind of freedom.
every day, she tells herself she wants to die. not dramatically, not in the heat of the momentβjust this quiet, persistent whisper at the back of her mind. what if you justβ¦ stopped? she thinks about it when sheβs brushing her teeth, or walking to class, or lying in bed at night. what if you didnβt have to do this anymore?
sometimes, itβs vivid. she imagines the ways she could do it, running through the details in her mind. the astronomy tower maybe? but then the shame kicks in, this hot, suffocating wave that makes her stomach churn. youβre selfish enough already. donβt make it worse.
but other times, itβs just this hollow ache, this desperate longing for everything to stop. itβs not even about dyingβitβs about escaping. she feels like sheβs drowning in everyone elseβs expectations, their problems, their pain, and sheβs so tired of carrying it all. she just wants it to end.
and yet, she doesnβt do it. she calls herself a coward for it, berates herself for being too weak to follow through. you can do everything else perfectly, but you canβt even do this. itβs another thing to hate about herself, another way she feels like sheβs failing.
but deep down, she knows why she doesnβt do it. she keeps going because she doesnβt know how to stop. because thereβs a part of her that still hopes, even when she hates herself for it. because no matter how much she wants to disappear, thereβs a part of her thatβs terrified of being forgotten.
she lays in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this is it. is this what life is supposed to be? when will it get better? when will i be free?
but the next morning, she gets up. she smiles. she listens to her friends. she carries their burdens and hides her own because someone has to, and who else is there?
lily evans: the girl who can do anything. except fall apart.
