Hey there people, whats up. Here's something that the plot bunny has been beating me over the head with for the past couple of days so i hope you enjoy.
Harry potter sat against his bedroom wall, barely daring to breathe. It was the summer after his fifth year and things could not have been worse for him.
Despite being woken up every night from the same dream, one of Sirius falling through the veil, then raising back out of it to tell Harry how he would still be alive, if it weren't for him, how much harry had ruined his life and how much of a mistake he was, not that it wasn't bad enough with those, but Voldermort had been sending vision after vision to harry through his dreams, which ended in pain and Harry waking up in blind terror.
Uncle Vernon had become rather fond of alcohol and after a week of Harry receiving letters from his friends, his luck ran out, as someone had sent him one at the moment Vernon came home.
He had finally snapped and took it out on Harry. Harry shuddered at the memories, he need to keep his mind off of those things.
It was 6:30, which meant his uncle would be home soon, at any moment and Harry knew he would be drunk, and another session would be in order.
Sure enough, a door some where below slammed and Harry stopped breathing, hoping, praying, tonight would not be as bad.
You maybe wondering, why didn't Harry simply tell someone from the Order what was going on, but then you would understand when you learned that Uncle Vernon had taken Hedwig and threaten, if any word of what was going on got to his friends, then she would end up headless and Harry would have to watch as his uncle torture his owl and make him clean up the mess, So he breathed not a word.
There was thudding coming in the direction of his room, and Harry baited his breath, it was time.
HELPMEHELPME
Vernon stepped out of his nephews bedroom, sweating and panting, red in the face. He grinned with a sadistic sort of satisfaction. All the while, Harry lay on his bed, his bed sheets soaked in his on blood. Tonight had defiantly been the worse, Vernon had used every type of abuse on him, all in a way that would make even Voldermort cringe.
'Please, someone, just let me die now. Voldermort, please come and kill me now, please...' When no came to Harry's whispered pleas, he gave up hope entirely.
If Harry was supposed to be the Chosen One, have the power the Dark Lord knows not, then why could his Uncle beat him like this and Harry be defenseless?
And where was the Order at? Weren't they supposed to be watching over him? Didn't they care about what happened to him?
A single answer rose up in his mind, No, they didn't give a damn if their Saviour was beaten brutally and more and likely murdered, by his uncle. No they didn't care, so he decided he didn't care either, Fuck them all.
Lifting his arm to reach for something on his bedside table, he had to bury his head in the pillows to stop himself from whimpering.
Picking up the scallop his Uncle was so fond of, to use on him, he shoved it in his wrist, so it was an inch in his vein, his ripped it out and began vigorously slashing at the already profusely bleeding arm.
Blood was gushing out from all wounds, quickly soaking everything. Harry knew this to be the end, he was going to die, "FUCK YOU ALL" Were his departing words, as he grimly smiled and let the darkness take him over.
Vernon came bursting into the room, a beer bottle clutched upside down, ready to smash it everywhere, but stopped in his tracks.
A light had begun to surround the bloody form, and when it vanished, so did Harry.
HELPMEHELPME
Authors Note: This is my warning, if severe abuse bothers you, stop reading now, because it gets mentioned later on, and it's BAD!
Anyway, so what do you guys think so far, please review and tell me.
Ciao
Sorrow