I'm a killer, cold and wrathful

Harry lay in his bed, bloody and broken, waiting, waiting. Waiting for what? Did he himself know? No, he didn't. But when it happened, he would know, instincts would over-power him and drive him to do what must be done. What must be done? He didn't know, but by the end of the night, it will have happened. For unavoidable was this thing he knew nothing about, this instinct driven action that soon - Soon? ... Yes, soon - would take place. He hummed a tune to pass the time.

Somewhere in the house, so quiet and anticipating, a clock struck the hour. Twelve times a tone cried out. Then, Harry felt it. It was subtle at first, only a small twinge in his gut that urged at him to righten himself and leave the small room.

Get up, something whispered into his ear. You've been waiting, it said, and now it's time. Get up.

And so Harry did. Listening to this voice that spoke so quietly, so lovingly, so perfectly - How could it be evil? - he left his bed and walked to the door, opened it an descended the stairs. As he headed for the Front Door, the voice chided him.

This way, childe, it spoke from his left.

Harry followed it into the kitchen. It lead him to the counter, into which he almost walked.

Up here, the voice spoke.

Lazily, Harry's eyes moved to the top of the counter, to the knives which rested so peacefully in their board.

Take one.

Harry tried to take a step back, but the twinge that had affected him earlier was back now and felt like so much more. It writhed in his gut, pulled from him toward the knives. And with a shaking hand, Harry grabbed one, the biggest one. For how could his gut be wrong, the voice evil? It was heavy in his hand, that knife, but he paid no mind, simply waited for the next instinct to pull him along.

He did not have to wait long. Back up the stairs.

Harry obeyed

To the little whale's room.

Harry opened Dudley's door, walked with the pulling feeling toward the great tub of lard's bed and stood over it. His cousin rolled onto his back, displayed himself in his grotesqueness to Harry. Harry raised his arm, the one holding the knife, moved his free hand to cover Dudley's large mouth and in one swift move, brought his arm down to perfectly land in the middle of Dudley's heart. The beast gasped, flailed a bit and watched Harry with accusing eyes, eyes that felt wrong to Harry. Had he not displayed those same eyes to Dudley as he was beaten, starved, raped? Yes? And had the little whale done anything to help? No? Than Harry should show the same.

To the next room.

Harry pulled from the beast his knife and again followed the pulling into the Master Bedroom where the horse and larger whale slept. They were not touching, simply lying side by side on their backs. He touched the horse's shoulder. "Auntie," he whispered. Petunia woke up instantly, a glare on her face, but immediately froze in shock at the sight of the bloody knife.

"What have you done?" she hissed.

Now!

Harry stabbed his aunt just as he did his cousin, perfectly in the heart. She moaned in pain, a tremor ran through her body before she stilled.

Good boy. Now just one more.

Harry walked over to the other side of the bed, stared down at his tormentor of fifteen years with nothing short of pure hatred. He raised his knife, but hesitated. Was it really so easy to stop it all? To put it all to rest? Just one stab?

No childe, enjoy it.

Nodding, Harry slammed the knife into his uncle's fat stomach. The man woke with a scream, he looked around franticly for his attacker, but found only his nephew smiling wickedly. Veron's eyes followed the child's arm to where it still rested against his stomach, knife clutched tightly. Smiling brighter at the fear in his uncle's eyes, Harry removed the knife and deposited it again into the man's stomach, only higher this time, nicking a rib. The whale screamed again.

Again and again, Harry stabbed his uncle until naught was left of him but a cold, bloodied corps. He smiled softly down at his tormentor. "No more," he said and left the room, left the house, walked bloodied and broken down the street and out of sight.

author's note:

they probably wont be much longer or, hell, they might be shorter, but here you go, please review.