Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, Harry Potter belongs to J. and the song Monster belongs to Skillet
This is my first oneshot after a long time of writing absolutly nothing. It's short, not betaed and my first language isn't english, despite this I hope it's not to bad :)
Enjoy!
The dreams – visions – were getting to him; he could freely admit that now, if only to himself. His temper was getting harder to control and he knew he had been snapping at his friends a lot lately. They got on his nerves with their constant presence and never ending questions about his well being, it was smothering. Sometimes he wanted to bare his teeth and hiss like them like some deranged beast, make them leave before he'd do something regrettable. No matter how much he tried to hold on to his anger, the rage grew in him uncontrollably and it was only a matter of time before his hold would shatter. The thought scared him.
Voldemort was tearing him down. Sleep was scarce and when he managed to fall asleep he inevitably dreamt. Even when he was a wake he constantly felt his oppressing aura in the back of his mind, black and slimy, relentlessly poisoning his every thought.
Lying on top of his duvet wide awake in the middle of the night he could hear the soft breathing and occasional snore from his dorm mates, he wanted to scream. He was running his fingernails across his stomach finding a fleeting reprieve in the short burst of pain and the slight burn afterwards. Sleeping was not a possibility in his mind even trough he was dead tiered and the voice in the back of his had kept insisting that he should sleep, cooed at him about letting go. Breathing labouredly he pinched the soft skin at his jaw, tore at his hair violently, whishing, hoping that something would happen, that someone would help him, that morning would come soon. Desperately afraid, that if he fell asleep, he'd wake up no longer himself. Sometimes he wished, preyed that he'd wake up and find out it was all a silly nightmare, but the light of the morning never changed anything.
When he looked into the mirror his eyes turned red for a split second, without even thinking about it he raised his fist and made the mirror rain down on him in tiny sharp edged pieces. Amusement was what he felt from Voldemort, but he was still holding on to sanity.
He had tried occluding – tried so hard – but it seemed like clearing his mind only made the link in his mind more pronounced, more obvious in it's abnormality.
Everyday he felt like his consciousness was a little less his own, like his thoughts might be someone else's.
"It's hiding in the dark, it's teeth are razor sharp
There's no escape for me, it wants my soul, it wants my heart
No one can hear me scream, maybe it's just a dream
Maybe it's inside of me, stop this monster"
(Skillet - Monster)