My worst fear.
To me, nothing was worse than dying, body decomposing, name losing meaning to the world. But what paralyzed me the most was the fact that in the long run, I was not going to the perfect place in the clouds called "Heaven," all because my sorry excuse for a mother decided to go all out with a prick that has the nerve to own the same name as me.
Nothing, nothing was worse.
And yet, here I am, losing to an immature goody two shoes brat. Looks like my deeds finally caught up to me.
I watched in horror as my own Killing Curse became closer and closer to me, heart pounding, breath quickening, robes fluttering, until finally-
A raven's caw sounded loudly in the silence.
And I- Lord Voldemort- was dead. Gone. vanished.
A/N: I dunno, Voldemort was always my most hated character in the HP series, but I thought it would be interesting to write about. Not sure Voldemort has death anxiety, but meh, it's fanfiction. :D First one shot ever, read and review please!