A/N: Hey y'all! Have a drabble :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.
Word Count: 301
WARNINGS: angst, mentions of child abuse... I'll post a happier one in a few minutes
Enjoy!
Piers could hear them shouting. They voices fell and rose in pitch and volume, but one thing about their arguments never changed—they were arguing about him.
He was in bed, his head buried beneath the pillow. Tears stained his cheeks, but he couldn't stop his sobbing. The six-year-old shivered and shook, screwing his eyes shut tight. His father's words echoed in his head, repeating like a cruel mantra.
Worthless, disappointment, weak.
His mother wasn't screaming in his defense—she was blaming her husband for the way Piers had turned out. Piers recalled her shrieks, her thin, bony hand as it flew up into the air—
His cheek throbbed painfully at the memory. But it was his fault, his fault, everything was his fault. No one liked him. He was alone.
But he still dreamed, sometimes.
He dreamed that one day, someone with a kind smile would come and take him away, make him better. He would be so good, too, like he always tried to be. But this time it would work—his parents would be proud of him. They would hug and kiss him, and maybe they could go out for ice cream like the other children did. He would like that.
Consumed with these fantasies, Piers began to calm down. He could still hear his parents' shouts, but it seemed secondary now. He pulled the pillow off his head slightly, so one large, innocent eye could stare out the window at the setting sun.
Tomorrow. Maybe everything would be okay tomorrow.
It was this thought—this hope—that allowed him to drift off to sleep, dreaming of smiling parents and a life of laughter. Or maybe there would be somebody else there, to give him a new life, one where everyone was happy.
Piers smiled in his sleep. He couldn't wait for tomorrow.
