When he died I died with him. At least part of me. I didn't think it was fair at first and I found that I was angry at Fred for leaving me. As silly as it sounds, I thought him rather selfish at the time. I remember feeling that way for about a month, i think. Time didn't really apply to me at the time. I usually just stayed in my room, stayed to myself. Mum and the others let me be, other than for meals. If Mum hadn't forced me I wouldn't have eaten. Trust is, I didn't want to live. I'd lost my other half, my pair. I felt lost. Alone. Nothing felt the same and it never will again. I'm getting a bit better, I suppose. I still can't apparate. I feel like half my soul is missing and I still feel alone. I'll never fully heal, but I'm getting better, I suppose...