Chapter 1 - includes mentions of rape and sexual content
Harry lay on the bed, shivering, covered with nothing but the bruises he had left on him. It had been paiful, he rememberd. The harsh words ripped through his memory like a blade - they had hurt even more than the blows he had recieved and the feeling of being ripped apart. Harry tried to forget his face, how he had smiled when he locked his arms over his head in a strong grip. How he had liked it when Harry had begged him to stop, even screamed in pain. His disgusting smell still lingered in the room, in him. Harry felt so dirty. He had been right; Harry was nothing but a filthy little whore.
He pressed his head to the nearest pillow and broke down in quiet sobs, draining the silky fabric with blood and tears. He desprately wanted to get up. He felt unsafe, what if he came back for more? But his body would't move, it had been broken beyond repair and every inch of him ached.
Ashamed. Used. Dirty. These feelings would't go away, making Harry feel sick. Suddenly he could't take it anymore, so he bend his head over to the side of the bed and threw up. It made him feel even worse, now his head was throbbing and the horrible stench filled the entire room. If he didn't want to be sick again, he had to get out of this room, he though to himself. Slowly, he pulled himself up and got on his feet. He winced as he halted to the bathroom, holding himself steady by grabbing the funiture along his way.
The light from the bedroom filled the bathroom dimly. As he made his way to the shower, he got a glipse of himself in the mirror. He closed his eyes, so just for a moment it would seems like this never happened. He didn't want to see the state he was in, the mess that was him. But he could't ignore it, this just didn't go away. It would haunt him for the rest of his life, he knew. So he opened his eyes and faced the truth. A shocked cry escaped his lips. The tears streamed down his pale cheeks again, and he didn't even care anymore. He had been used so badly.
