Might as well get on with it, no need for an introduction... yet...

My child arrived just the other day,

He came to the world in the usual way.

But there were trains to catch and bills to pay,

He learned to-

The radio was in pieces before you could say "avada kedavra", the result of one certain fifteen year old, blonde, teenage boy.

"Story of my life," he grumbled, staring at his now bleeding fist. He couldn't help but savor the pain though, knowing his emotional scars were ten times worse. He could only stare, as he wasn't allowed to use magic, yet. Only a couple more years, he thought to himself. He smiled at the thought, but it quickly disappeared, when he heard footsteps coming upstairs. They thundered in his ears, and echoed in his head. He knew what was coming. If only there was something that could stop the inevitable.

"Darn-it," he grumbled, immediately jumping down from his bed. He looked at the mess of metal and tried to find a place to put it. He scanned his room and, without thinking, shoved it all under his bed, praying his father wouldn't notice the missing radio. He then grabbed a book from his bookshelf and opened it to the bookmarked page and began to read. Not a minute later his door slammed against the wall.

"BOY!" The scream echoed through the house and shook the walls. The book was shut on his hand, and he winced. What had he done? Oh yeah, he was a disgrace. He barely registered the movement of his father's hand, but he couldn't ignore the stinging sensation on his cheek. It took all his energy to not reach up to his face. He felt tears well up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. They practically burned. "Look. At. Me."

"Y-yes father." He received a glare as his father walked out suddenly, a shock really. Was this it? But his father turned his head again. Though his father hadn't spoken to him after that, his face said everything. He was no longer accepted, no longer a son to his father. He looked down. "Yes sir." He looked up as he watched his father descend the staircase, until he was no longer visible. Then, he sighed, and looked at his bleeding fist.

"Urgh." He got up and tiptoed out of his room. He walked slowly into his bathroom and headed for the medicine closet. He grabbed the gauze and wound his hand up in it. As he went to put it back, he found some prescription painkillers. He didn't know where they'd come from, but he grabbed the bottle, and headed back to his room. He closed the door and looked at the bottle closely.

"Screw this." He picked up the bottle and opened it. It was nearly full! He smiled, and tipped about eight pills into his hand. He brought his hand to his mouth, and gulped the pills down. He knew he'd be out soon enough, so he closed the bottle, and hid it, before laying down on his bed.

The next morning he found himself lying in a pure white room. He didn't really understand why, but he sat up.

"Mr. Malfoy?" He heard a familiar voice.

"Yes?"

"You have a visitor." Why was this voice so familiar to him? The he remembered. This was the nurse he had when his father used the cruciatus curse on him earlier in the summer. Coincidence? He really hoped so.

"Draco?" It was his mom... and, ugh, Pansy.

"Dray Dray!" Oh joy, the wicked witch of the west, literally. He smiled at the thought. Bad decision. He mentally slapped himself.

Draco's POV

"I knew you'd be happy to see me!" No, I am in fact not happy to see you in any way. But do I really have a choice here? Nah, didn't think so. Go ahead, babble as if your life depended on it. There is no way i'm listening, like you'd care. Just put on the show. You don't really care for me. You just put on the act all the time. As if acting long enough will make the feelings real.

"M-mom?" My voice sounded so weak. I was shocked. It was also frightening, although I wouldn't admit it out loud.

"Yes, Draco?" She was the only one that truly cared, but against my father she was powerless. If only she had any strength. Taking care of me took it all away. I instantly felt guilty.

"What happened?" I was honestly curious. Unfortunately, this seemed to be touchy subject for her. I watched her eyes sparkle with tears. She refused, however, to let them fall. What had happened? Had father gotten to me? Was it something i'd done? Crap. The pills.

"Oh, Draco. Why? Why would you stoop so low? Not only did you... but... muggle methods? Your father isn't happy. Not at all." She shook her head, and I knew instantly, I had taken too many pills. I had nearly died, I believe the muggle word is... suicide?

"This is me we're talking about mother. He's never happy when it comes to me. I'm a disgrace, remember?" I watched the tears finally fall. I was almost, relieved. Then again, my father could come in any minute, if he cared enough to show up. He would take her home if he saw her. "Mother, I... I don't think you should..." She wiped her eyes with her robes.

"You're right Draco. Besides, there isn't anything to cry about. I found you in time. I saved you." From what? Death? Not that that was my intention, but death is fine. A peaceful death, much better than the ongoing slow death my father is giving me. Hah. Hysterical. I'm still referring to him as my father. I'm not his son. That was obvious enough. It was then that Pansy decided she wanted to step in and talk. I'd had enough though.

"Nurse?"

"Yes Mr. Malfoy?" She smiled at me.

"I would like some rest, would you kindly escort my visitors out?" I smiled apologetically at my mother. Pansy hmphed on her way out, arms folded over her pretty much nonexistent chest. As soon as she left, I grinned. My voice was still weak. "Thank you nurse." She sat down on my bed, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Draco, I understand that your father does horrible things to you... but that doesn't mean he doesn't love you."

Me: What will Draco say to that? Stick around to find out!

This is Kayleigh, signing out!

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