CHAPTER 1-Paint The Room Red
This is my first time writing a fanfiction and actually posting, so forgive for any mistakes. If you have any suggestions about what you want this story to go let me know. I don't really know where I'm going with this.
This is a story of a boy who wasn't given the chance to be a boy. A boy whose no longer a boy, but a man. This man has been through a lot and doesn't know what he wants because he had no control over his life. This is the story of Harry Potter revisited.
I'm nothing, why am I even still here. I don't deserve to be here while everyone I care about is dead because of me. I'm worthless. I'm trash. Maybe what the papers were saying is true. Maybe I am a attention seeking brat. I don't deserve this fame. I don't deserve this glory. I deserve nothing. I am nothing.
Harry sat on his bedroom floor in Grimmauld Place. Kreacher wasn't too far from him having been called a few seconds prior. Harry was in one of his moods. You see after the war, he was a little, how can I say it, unstable. One second he was happy and cheery, then he would do a complete 180 and be desolate and suicidal. Now is one of those times. He looks so worn out and tired. Harry wants nothing to do but to sleep, to go away, to change everything. If he knew the things he knows now, this catastrophe could be avoided. This new world of so called, "Unity and Peace". It's nothing but a farce. They all worship him as if he's some god. It's like they were brainwashed. He can't stand it, the pressure, the constant watching.
He looks down at his burning arm. Look at the pretty red. Such a pretty red, like HIS eyes. He cuts his arm again. He enjoys the pain. He looks forward to it. It's the only thing hat lets him know that he is getting did punishment for what he'd done. So much blood. Like that night. NO! He doesn't want to think about that night anymore.
Kreacher wants to help his master, but having been through this before, he knows it's best to wait for him to regain his senses.
Harry begins to stand. He's hunched over, blood running down his arm ono the floor. His gaze determined, he walked out of his room towards the Black library.
TBC...