Disclaimer: I didn't make any money writing this and I don't own these
characters. But if I did then the books would be way better.
"I'm feeling cold today
Not hurt just Fucked away
I'm devastated and frustrated
God I feel so bound
So why'd I feel the need?
I think it's time to bleed
I'm gonna cut myself
and watch the blood hit the ground"
~Right Now
Korn~
Addicted To Pain
I run the blade over my wrists. The cool steel cutting into my pale skin. My crimson blood spilling out.
I promised him I wouldn't do this anymore.
But how can I stop, I'm addicted.
The cutting. The blood. The burn of the cuts.
It all scratches an itch I have. An itch that can be scratched by nothing else.
'he'll be disappointed in you. You'll lose his trust' the little voice in my reminds me.
I cut again. Little shallow cuts. Enough to bleed, but not enough to kill.
My mind wanders back to the very first cuts ever made.
They were the outcome of a botched suicide. But I was glad to live, for I discovered something better. Something wonderful.
I remember his reaction to the scars, the first time he saw them. How he ran his finger along those lines of even paler skin.
I remember my promise to him, how I wouldn't do this anymore, how I wouldn't hurt myself. But it doesn't hurt, well, not that much. Besides we all could use a little pain now and then.
The first cut is as a searing fire, the others that follow are as small embers.
I like the burning.
And I would stop, if I could.
But I can't.
Slowly I lick the blade, tasting my own blood.
If only he saw me now. If he only saw how much I enjoyed this.
Maybe I could get him to try. Then we'd both be addicted.
Addicted to the pain.
A/N: The "him" Draco is referring to is Harry, his boyfriend
"I'm feeling cold today
Not hurt just Fucked away
I'm devastated and frustrated
God I feel so bound
So why'd I feel the need?
I think it's time to bleed
I'm gonna cut myself
and watch the blood hit the ground"
~Right Now
Korn~
Addicted To Pain
I run the blade over my wrists. The cool steel cutting into my pale skin. My crimson blood spilling out.
I promised him I wouldn't do this anymore.
But how can I stop, I'm addicted.
The cutting. The blood. The burn of the cuts.
It all scratches an itch I have. An itch that can be scratched by nothing else.
'he'll be disappointed in you. You'll lose his trust' the little voice in my reminds me.
I cut again. Little shallow cuts. Enough to bleed, but not enough to kill.
My mind wanders back to the very first cuts ever made.
They were the outcome of a botched suicide. But I was glad to live, for I discovered something better. Something wonderful.
I remember his reaction to the scars, the first time he saw them. How he ran his finger along those lines of even paler skin.
I remember my promise to him, how I wouldn't do this anymore, how I wouldn't hurt myself. But it doesn't hurt, well, not that much. Besides we all could use a little pain now and then.
The first cut is as a searing fire, the others that follow are as small embers.
I like the burning.
And I would stop, if I could.
But I can't.
Slowly I lick the blade, tasting my own blood.
If only he saw me now. If he only saw how much I enjoyed this.
Maybe I could get him to try. Then we'd both be addicted.
Addicted to the pain.
A/N: The "him" Draco is referring to is Harry, his boyfriend