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centerThe Boy Who Almost Lived/center
centerChapter One/center
Harry watched as the blood trickled down his pale arm. He picked up the knife and cut again. It felt good. He looked at himself in the mirror. Not the most handsome boy in the world. He had glasses, was very light and skinny and a scar on his forehead shaped like a lighting bolt. He hated that scar. He wished it would just go away. He picked up the knife again. The boy who lived. He cut his arm very fiercely. Yeah right. Our hero. He slashed his arm again. Bull Shit. He was sick of being this person he wasn't. He was sick of people thinking he was some kind of saint or something. He resented every one of them.
He slid the knife into his pocket and opened the bathroom door. The birds outside were tweeting. He wanted to strangle them. Wanted to ask them why they were so happy. Wanted to stop them from being happy. Everyone is so happy, he thought. It's spring and it makes him sick. He looked out the window. Everyone was outside. He was alone. Again. He saw Ron and Hermione walking the grounds, holding hands. Ever since they started dating, they've completely ignored him. After they went off, he was left with no one. Not even his owl. Hedwig passed a long time ago. Shot by a spell that someone obviously thought would be a funny prank. It wasn't funny. They didn't even apologize. They just left Harry bent over crying over the only friend he had left. The first friend he ever had, really. He thought about the times when he was a content little kid. He waited for the memories to come, but they never did. Then it stuck him, he was never a happy child.
When he came to Hogwarts, he was the happiest person on earth. He though that things would be different. They were. He made friends. He was with others like him. He was happy. (Was being the operative word) Then in the 4th year, it all started to spiral slowly. He was cut off by the wizarding world. His friends ignored him. He was depicted as a maniac and the world shunned him, all but Hermione and Ron. Then at the beginning of this year, he didn't even have them. He, the boy who lived, had nothing. And the boy who lived, wished he hadn't.
centerThe Boy Who Almost Lived/center
centerChapter One/center
Harry watched as the blood trickled down his pale arm. He picked up the knife and cut again. It felt good. He looked at himself in the mirror. Not the most handsome boy in the world. He had glasses, was very light and skinny and a scar on his forehead shaped like a lighting bolt. He hated that scar. He wished it would just go away. He picked up the knife again. The boy who lived. He cut his arm very fiercely. Yeah right. Our hero. He slashed his arm again. Bull Shit. He was sick of being this person he wasn't. He was sick of people thinking he was some kind of saint or something. He resented every one of them.
He slid the knife into his pocket and opened the bathroom door. The birds outside were tweeting. He wanted to strangle them. Wanted to ask them why they were so happy. Wanted to stop them from being happy. Everyone is so happy, he thought. It's spring and it makes him sick. He looked out the window. Everyone was outside. He was alone. Again. He saw Ron and Hermione walking the grounds, holding hands. Ever since they started dating, they've completely ignored him. After they went off, he was left with no one. Not even his owl. Hedwig passed a long time ago. Shot by a spell that someone obviously thought would be a funny prank. It wasn't funny. They didn't even apologize. They just left Harry bent over crying over the only friend he had left. The first friend he ever had, really. He thought about the times when he was a content little kid. He waited for the memories to come, but they never did. Then it stuck him, he was never a happy child.
When he came to Hogwarts, he was the happiest person on earth. He though that things would be different. They were. He made friends. He was with others like him. He was happy. (Was being the operative word) Then in the 4th year, it all started to spiral slowly. He was cut off by the wizarding world. His friends ignored him. He was depicted as a maniac and the world shunned him, all but Hermione and Ron. Then at the beginning of this year, he didn't even have them. He, the boy who lived, had nothing. And the boy who lived, wished he hadn't.