AN- Tried writing a bleach fanfic. Put it off by writing this. Sorry, I'm in a weird mood. What do I blame? The skittle I found on the floor at school and ate. Why did I eat it? BTW- I try to make things seem serious, but they never do. At least it might make trying to descipher what I mean a little bit more intresting?
I think this will be about 2 chapters long. Yeah. I'm really tired.
Rated T for language and maybe references. Not sure. And mugging. Don't like, Don't read.
I spent some time in the toilet- I'd made a rather large dollop and an equally large smell. Even I, the great creator, had to admit that it smelt. I tried to spray some air freshener. That failed.
Eventually I found myself sneaking out the loo, I could pin the blame on Remus, who had just left. Oh how I laughed at my cynical cruelty and cynicallness. My footsteps slapped loudly and gave me away, me thinks. I was mortified. Sirius would realize I was some sort of smelly poop machine and send me back to the Dursleys.
Minutes later I sneaked back to the toilet to try and recover the smell with some armpit spray. Linx. To be exact. And I'm always exact because I'm brilliant.
When I opened the door I realized that it didn't smell at all. It must have been a trick of my mind, so after spraying some armpit spray, I left. The significance of that tale? None. It's not connected at all with anything.
How come in scary movies they don't just all carry guns on them? Sometimes I spread strawberry jam over my body and pretend to be a strawberry. Sound familiar?
No.
I checked the clock- I can't remember the exact time, or more, couldn't be bothered to turn the 24hour clock into the actual time. It was late. I peered out the window to see how dark it was. Not too dark- lighter than Snape's class room at Hogwarts, though that's not saying much.
What was with Snape anyway? What sort of name's 'Snape' anyway? The again, 'Voldermort'. At least that wasn't his real name. (Too many 'anyway's).
My belly rumbled a bit. I don't remember being hungry. Actually, I wasn't hungry at all. But my belly was. Selfish greedy thing. I should have it removed. I could have it replaced with a nuclear reactor.
But what if I had a melt down?
That was a story for another day. I managed to focus my thoughts and set off in search of food. I stumbled down the stairs in a panicked scramble for food like the animal I was. People put animals down too much. Comparing themselves to animals; humans are animals. Honestly.
The cupboard seriously didn't want to open. They screamed as I opened them and desperately tugged to keep themselves closed. Or maybe they were just a bit stiff.
I heard a lazy snoring come from somewhere nearby. I didn't quite know where. No room to my left and wasn't coming from the right nor in front or behind me. I give up on descriptive writing.
I spent a while searching, but to no avail. No food. God, I didn't ask for much. But there was seriously no food. Let's see: Some curry powder, some pasta, cottage cheese and sardines. I could paste them altogether…?
Finally; my last hope. I stared longingly up at the seemingly giraffe like fridge, my eyes gleaming in optimistic, naïve hope. It must have food- it must! Shouldn't the cottage cheese have been in the fridge? No. No the cottage cheese was just fine at the back of the cupboard beneath the sink; (which was full of washing up liquid.)
The fridge, however, looked down at me with pitying eyes. Oh how it mocked me. Even its shadow had this evil tinge to it- like a sort of evil… thing.
Upon opening the fridge I realized that there was no hope there and all thoughts on food could be abandoned. We had plenty earlier. It's just Remus came over, and I have my suspicions he was a closet pig.
I crept up the stairs; in my mind I had this idea I was some sort of ninja. I never really had that great a child hood. Hey, I deserved pity and children's toys- but oh no. I landed with Voldermort. I was going to tell Sirius I was just going to walk down the road and buy some bread or something.
Before I knocked harshly and relentlessly on the door to Sirius' room, I realized the snoring from earlier, (Oh yes, I do remember earlier, thank you- No we don't need a flash back,) was coming from Sirius' room. And I guessed, yes, gasp (the onomatopoeia), I guessed, that Sirius was asleep.
Why bother interrupting him when I would go out and buy whatever I wanted and be home before he even knew it? He'd probably thank me and not be as angry upon the discovery of the smell in the bathroom I made earlier. Yes. That was a brilliant idea.
Beep. Beep. God, it sounded like I was in some sort of dying patients hospital room. It was just the sound of barcodes being scanned at the checkout, but honestly, it had me fooled. Did I sound like an old person? Old people complain about things like that.
But then so did I. And I am spicy. Old people are stale, not spicy.
I'd only been gone a few minutes- but I had this weird nagging feeling that I was doing something I wasn't supposed to do. You know, go out after dark alone when the dark lord himself was after me. But I was right and Sirius was wrong. Not that Sirius said anything to be wrong. He was just wrong.
And I was right.
It was on the way home when anything happened. Rain peed on my face; the sky above me mocking me. Just because the clouds couldn't feel the cold it felt the need to rub its piss on me. Was it raining? That's what people generally call water falling from the sky.
So yes- yes it was raining. I'm sorry to not make sense. I'm constantly an incomprehensible mess. I think though; that fun from life is extracted when you're not dark and morbid and twisty and messed up inside. Though if you talk like you think then your life becomes even more messed up.
You probably don't follow me. Where was I?
My footsteps echoed with purpose; purpose being myself skipping towards Sirius' home before he realized I was out. I should really call it our home. Our home. There.
The precipitation seemed to clear up a bit when I was suddenly slammed against someone's wooden fence; the fence rattled and threatened to fall from its once sturdy erect position. Ha. Erect.
Then with a crack of conveniently timed thunder the rain started up again. Just my luck. That's an awful movie. Never watch it.
Someone had pushed me up against the fence, their face shadowed by the moon light from behind them. I assume it to be a boy since their grunt was a many grunt. That and I, Harry Potter, like to stereo-type criminals.
He had on a thick Jacket, a hat. Nothing really out of ordinary. And some trousers. Good thing he had them on. Despite how serious the situation was, it would have been a bit awkward if he had no trousers on. Why must I wonder off the subject so many times?
It was like I was born with a story telling curse- thou who shall tell a tale of words shall stray of topic. But a tale of pictures was something else entirely different. Don't I know anything?
Suddenly little things became big things and big things became little things- significant details lost in a sea of crap and like hell I'd sort through them all. Excuse my language. I don't speak like that. I'm a good boy.
Drip. Drip goes the bad onomatopoeia. The cool drip of the onomatopoeia made shivers run down my spine. I was unthinking, just feeling. I felt the splash, the splosh- the onomatopoeia. I heard the ripple- I knew I could hear the ripple.
The splish of the ripple.
Is 'splish' a new one?
It was cold- My breath was shaky, a shiver raked my body. Supposedly cold. I shut my eyes.
It was dark- My eyes couldn't see light through my eye lids- the couldn't see through open eyes.
It was scary- My heart beat too fast- my breath was that bit too fast.
It was all those things. Particularly the former. And the latter. And the one in between.
What I'm getting at is many words describe the experience; 'pleasant' wasn't one of them.
"What do you want?" My voice quivered after what seemed like forever. I could imagine how pathetic I must have looked. My voice didn't sound quite right. It didn't feel quite right.
Neither did the cockroach I ate.
Both went down with a crunch of regret. The man punched me in the face. Oh how I over exaggerate. I was back handed. Oh the perils of lies and exaggeration.
"Shut up." His accent was a heavy north London one, contrasting with my accent. My accent was brilliant because I was brilliant.
Was.
I felt myself shake. Like really shake. My eyes were wide like a fox, or a deer, or a pygmi crested whale, caught in head lights. Or was it a rabbit? My mind was full of too many processes to remember. The man's hands gripped my arms too hard; he had them at a slightly painful angle.
"Give me your wallet." He paused, weighing up stuff in his mind. Or what he had of a mind. I wished I had my wand- I'd blow his head off. That would do away with his 'mind. "Your phone and your shoes too."
Maybe not his whole head, maybe I'd knock him unconscious then dip him toe first into acid. Lasts longer that way. Shaky hands reached into my pocket- I then realized they were my own. Strange they felt foreign. I gave him my wallet and my phone and my iPod too. Yeah, I had an iPod. Remus gave both of them to me. I love muggle things.
I didn't mean to give him my iPod. It just came out and I was too scared not too. I toed of my shoes, the man grabbed a hand full of my hair and growled at me to hurry up. Once they were off he bent down and seizing them. I stood still, full of shock. Every muscle in my body cramped up.
The nice man he was punched me one round the face and then everywhere else he could hit on me and then took flight.
Reality came crashing down on me when I was left alone with something akin to deafening silence. A sob, a single, heart wrenching sob wracked my body and I slid to the ground, some blood dripped to the floor from my mouth. The sound of cars soon filled my ears again, the sound of traffic. Of people. Of people who wanted to hurt me.
People wanted to hurt me.
People want to hurt me.
I took deep, shallow breaths, by glassed smashed and shards sticking into my palms. I hadn't realized I'd been pushing them against the ground until it was too late. Thoughts left my mind- I sat numb in the freezing weather next to some road in a seemingly deserted neighborhood. I knew it wasn't though.
I stumbled to my feet, tripping and pathetic-ing. You know you can pathetic places. I have this vague de ja vu. I heard footsteps. They rang through my ears. That's when the thoughts in my mind started back up.
I'd just been mugged.
That was a sobering thought. I'd just been mugged. Not that I was drunk or high or-
Off topic.
The footsteps sounded nearer, and with that I set off in a run, the shopping left behind. God, I'd look like a right douche if I brought the shopping. But details do not matter. I do not matter. I felt vunerable,
And people want to hurt me?