Disclaimer: I do not own under any circumstance the wonderful world that is Harry Potter, I am merely borrowing it (:

Contains abuse and self-harm. Hit the back button if you don't like.

Darkness claimed him.

Harry's eyes flickered to a comfortable close, he could finally breathe again, steadily filling himself with air, exhaling through the searing pain. His arm lay awkwardly on his knee, allowing the crimson blood to travel into the crook of his arm and spill over the sides and onto his jeans. The slash just below his wrist was barely visible from the amount of blood that was now surfacing. Voices drifted in and out of his head, the constant sound of pain, grief and hurt overwhelmed him, his heart screaming, his own cry sounding. The ghostly face of Sirius Black was glaring from above Harry, his grin laughing, not with amusement but pity. Harry tried hard to block out what was now going to come, the taunting, the blame. His eyes pressed harder to a shut, tears cornering the blazing green eyes that somehow lost their spark over the summer.

"I'm gone, Harry."

Harry squirmed. He hated the ghost of his godfather, he hated how he was cruelly reminded every time that he was responsible for the death, he hated how no matter what he did it was impossible to block out. He hated himself.

"You killed me, Harry."

Trying harder now, Harry pulled himself mentally out of the image, Sirius was somehow pushing him back down, throwing him to the ground. He twitched his fingers as the blood loss was beginning to take a hold of his body and the weakened state it was already in. Sirius jeered, throwing his head back in a maniacal laughter.

"Do you think that anyone wants to be around you anymore?" Sirius pressed on. "Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore they are all having fun without you, all of them have forgotten you. The Chosen One." Sirius scoffed. Harry winced from not the pain but those three words.

The Chosen One. Couldn't Harry be like any other normal sixteen year old with normal families and normal teenage situations? These questions replayed endlessly in his mind, never an answer, never a solution.

Harry was sinking into a deep unconscious sleep where only his nightmares could now haunt him, the nightmare of his life, and the recurring disasters that only happened to him.

Where was the exit?

----

"You lazy bastard." Uncle Vernon growled, kicking Harry hard in the shin as he lay slumped against the side of the wardrobe, arm sleeve down but still drenched in blood. Harry's eyes opened slowly, the vision before him made his stomach ache, his head spin and his arm sear. His uncle was towered over him holding a large leather belt, clutching it in his right hand, his left hand reached out for Harry grabbing his collar.

"You disobeyed me." Vernon muttered threateningly. "I told you, to be up six o'clock sharp to start breakfast. And where were you?" Noticing this as a question to be answered, Harry obediently stood, stumbling a little as he got to his feet. He could feel the burning of his uncle's stare as his piggy eyes bore into his arm, right where his new wound was.

"What did I tell you about that!" Vernon snatched Harry's left arm and wrenched up his sleeve to reveal a large cut in the middle of a series of glowing white scars up and down his arm. A months work of dealing with everything.

Harry bit on his lip and turned his head away. Vernon pressed an overlarge thumb against the wound until he heard Harry cry aloud, his teeth pierced his bottom lip, and Harry could feel a trickle of blood sliding down his chin. Vernon noticed the weakness, stopped and let go of Harry's arm. The pain was so shocking that Harry collapsed back to the floor, clutching his pained arm against his chest and rocking backwards and forwards slightly.

"Little freak." Vernon spat, whacking Harry across the head, knocking him to the floor and Harry lay breathing hard, his wound was beginning to bleed again. It was becoming difficult to fight against the racking pains in his body and with more additions every day Harry was slowly giving in.

"Up." Vernon gave Harry the chance to stand freely, but Harry was too weak to even move. Soon enough, Vernon's clammy hands forced him to his feet. Swaying, Harry leaned against the wardrobe.

It all happened suddenly.

The growls of his uncle and the lashes of the belt on Harry's back where the only two things Harry could here, he was spacing out rapidly, his eyes glazed over shutting every so often through the pain, his arms that were holding him upright were slacking. Vernon was hurling abuse at Harry and even his uncle was now sounding faint… his legs buckled and his head smacked into the doors of the wardrobe, sending him onto the floor in a pained slumber.

---

The streetlight flickered annoyingly, Harry could see through the skin of his eyelids the dirty orange colour that was projected into his bedroom. Realisation kicked him, and Harry started to move his legs slightly. They were stiff, and his arms heavy. Bruises were creeping onto the surface of his skin and Harry looked down at his left arm. A blood stained finger print of his uncle had been printed where he had pressed onto Harry's wound and Harry rubbed at it angrily, until his skin was red raw like that on his back. He crouched now, before standing himself upright against the wardrobe doors. It was night, the street view from his window was bare, and the house was silent.

Harry acted on instinct.

Rushing towards his bed as best he could, he heaved his trunk onto the bed sheets, opening it and throwing everything in sight into it. The last thing left to pack was the stained razor blade and the letters from Sirius. He tossed the letters on top of the mess and tucked the blade neatly inside a coat pocket so he could find it later.

It hurt to carry such a weight from his body, placing the trunk by the door Harry made sure he had his wand, before sending Hedwig out of the window, telling her to arrive prompt at the Leaky Cauldron where he would be staying.

Harry took a step towards the door, drawing his wand he pointed it at the key hole.

"Alohomora." He whispered, his voice cracking, the door creaked open and Harry dragged himself and his belongings out into the hall. There was no way he could risk fetching his broom, he levitated his trunk and with too much shake, it floated to the bottom making a few small noises as it banged against the walls, Harry followed.

Trunk, wand and Harry were all stood by the front door. This is it, Harry thought a little elated as he imagined how freedom would suit him. Smiling to himself, Harry raised his wand again, whispering the spell and the door clicked open.

A hand reached out for the handle…

"And where do you think you're going?"

The crown of hope that Harry had worn a second ago, had now been ripped into shreds diminished into shards of pain that would surely arrive much too soon. Too much suffering, too much endurance and nothing was going to get better. Harry turned frightened to look into the large face of Dudley Dursley was smirking as if he had won first prize.

A/N: So what did you think? Review and Rate! I love the encouragement and need it to carry on with chapter 2.