Disclaimer: Not mine.
He knew it was wrong. He knew he should stop but he just couldn't. He was addicted.
He bit back a cry as he slid the razor yet again across his scarred forearm. It hurt so bad. But that was the point. He had to be punished. Punished for his imperfection.
Blood trickled down his arm and he sighed with pure bliss at the searing pain that throbbed through his body. He loved the feeling it gave, the pain and the way it relaxed him so much.
He knew it was wrong. He knew he should stop but he just couldn't. He was addicted. Addicted to his own pain, his own blood.
He pulled the razer across again and more blood ran from his cut down onto the cold stone he was sat on. With a start he realised far to much blood was leaking from him and moved to stop it. But then he had a thought. What was the point?
Each day he sat there watching his life pour out of him, watching as he slowly died inside. With a determined look on his pain filled face he widened the cut. He dipped his finger in the blood and lifted it to the wall beside him sat back and admired his work. He smiled softly before the world went black.
The next morning Harry Potter was found dead in the astronomy tower at hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. A peaceful smile still on his bloodied and scarred body. On the wall next to him, written his blood, was a single message.
Fuck you world. Save yourselves.
A/N: ONESHOT. Don't ask me to write more it was a onetime thing.