disclaimer: I dont and never will own Harry Potter. Just Having fun
--
His body bends in a way that makes me uncomfortable. I remember breaking his arms, remember hearing the sound as his wrists cracked and shattered. I remember sawing off each of his fingers till the blood pulled around his palms. I remember tying him to the broken cross in a mockery to the muggle son of god. I remember nailing in each piece of metal and robbing his body of shelter. I remember leaving him to die in the morning light as the public began to gather. I remember hiding in their growing crowd, smiling as they cried and screamed. I remember smiling as they watched him begin to die.
But right now it feels awkward. Watching as the old fool pulls him from the cross, the way he falls limply into tired arms. He hangs, bent in the way only the unconscious can do, seemingly dead.
I'm moving away from the crowed, moving away from these people. A mob of fools who love him, well who claim to love him at least.
They are too afraid to fight their own war, so they leave it up to a child. I have just destroyed that child, stolen his innocence. They will hang me, no; they will burn me for destroying their little child-god before he completed his duty to them.
Hm, and I must wonder in abstract thought. Have I, the most hated villain, sparred my rival the pain of their future betrayal and become the ironic champion or have I only completed my task as any villain. Destroyed my protagonist and left the storyboard free to my reign.
Still the way his body bends leaves me in the clutches of strange emotion. When I look into those empty eyes next we meet, I'll be unable to fulfill my desires. He'll be my clipped wing bird, the lark that never sings. My pet, moving in a mockery of life. Yes, this seems more fitting than any story young minds can dream.
Yes. He will look better nestled in a gilded cage than broken in a white sheet bed. This unknown beat in my veins seems to cool at the thought. I have done right, by my selfish deeds.
Cp. 11:14PM Sun 08/03/08 'Crawling' Linkin Park 'In Fates Hands & Atrophy' Red Jumpsuit Appartus 'Dig' Incubus HP ff, feeling worse in throat, just a thing that flowed free, lone(ly) feeling, going to be fine, trying to create, here silent preparing for the snap (Typed, House)