I Am Cut
by: Drunk McGonagall
Prologue:
Harry sighed with satisfaction, throwing his head back in mental pleasure as he drug the sharp end of the knife across his left wrist and tremors of pain racked his body. It clattered to the floor when he dropped it, flexing his hands, palms up, and he moaned at the feeling. It hurt so bad, but to him, it was a good kind of hurt. He sucked in breath through persed lips, tilting back on his knees. Blood dripped down his hand and onto the stone floor of the boy's lavitory.
Beacuse he didn't revell as much in the feeling of a cold, silver blade against his skin, Harry left the crimson dyed knife on the floor and drew his wand. He held it in-between his teeth as he pilled his robes and shirt off his lithe body. He took the wand in hand and pointed it at his chest.
"Sectumsempra."
Bile rose in hie throat as he screamed, tears forming in his closed eyes as gnashes, gashes, slits and cuts appeared out of no where by an invisable dagger on his chest and arms, blood gushing from the open wounds.
And he kept screaming...and screaming...and screaming.
But there was no one there to hear him.
A/N: Okay...yes I DO know that this is a VERY VERY short chapter..."prologue" if you will. But I kinda just wanted you to get to know what my version of Harry is going through. Please review. I do accept flames, telling me how horrible I am to J.K. Rowling's characters, just not a forrest fire, OK?
The first chapter SHOULD be coming soon! (I just don't know when...)
