Author's Note: This is the first fanfiction that I've written in many years, it's just a short drabble written in Harry's POV that came to me. Let me know what you think & thanks for reading!
I'm sitting in a basement smelling of old, burned furnace oil. Empty and raw, just being. The floor is a cold, unforgiving linoleum and I'm wearing only a old pair of Dudley's castoff gym shorts. No shirt. Freaks don't deserve clothing uncle says.
I've been down here almost as far back as I can remember – once upon a time I can vaguely remember getting to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs, but that was upstairs. Only good little boys are allowed upstairs.
I lie still on the towel that I stole from the hallway closet from upstairs when I knew no one was home. That was before Uncle started locking me in though. I knew they wouldn't miss one towel, and I had to have something. It's cold in the basement.
Sometimes I pray for a savior to come and find me. Like I am right now. I'm tired of this endless stretch of time. I've been down here for so long. When is Uncle ever going to let me out? When will my punishment be over?
As much as I want out of here, the thought of someone opening the door to the outside world scares me. Darkness is all I've ever known, it's easy here.
I'm lying curled up in a ball shortly after Uncle came down to visit me. I don't dare bring out my towel from the hole in wall until I hear the last of the footsteps climb the stairs for bed. My body already aches from Uncle, not to mention my eyes are still stinging from the harsh light that is only turned on when Uncle comes down to play with his freak.
'Freak. Freak. Freak. ' I chant in my head. Tear tracks are falling softly down my face, the sobs long since subsided. I wish more than anything for someone to find me. But I know that freaks don't deserve wishes.
I wake in the morning to the familiar tramp-tramping on the kitchen floor overhead. There are voices' talking, harsh voices arguing about something that I can't quite make out. I can hear the high-pitched shrill of my Aunt Petunia's voice, and my Uncle's irate roar. It's the third voice that is actually yelling back at my aunt and uncle that is causing me to cower in the corner of my basement, my knees pulled up to chest and my hands clenched tight over my ears.
Calm, Harry – stay calm.
The voices quiet, then get louder as I hear their footsteps make their way to my basement door. I'm scared. Uncle has only brought a few strange men down here before, ones with leery half-smirks that would lure me in, before hurting me in ways Uncle has never before.
Lights flood the basement, a whimper escapes me. I can see feet make their way down the steps before I clamp my eyes shut, so tightly in the hopes that if I can't see them then they can't see me.
Something touches my arms and legs and I feel myself rise. Struggling to get free, from whoever has captured me.
"Take it easy child, I've got you. You're okay now."
A blanket drops to cover me, so soft, so warm.
"You're safe now Harry. No one is going to hurt you anymore."
