HPOV
I am curled in a ball, laying on the floor in my cupboard. I try my best to keep my back from touching the floor knowing that as it does the cuts I have from Uncle Vernon's belt will erupt in pain. I close my eyes and silently pray for anyone to come and save me. I have made this plea every night since the first time Vernon beat me, I was only 4. As I adjust my position I whimper in pain. I try to stay quiet knowing that if Vernon hears me he will come back for round two. The beating was worse this time. I didn't ask for the letters but Vernon blamed me anyway. He whips me with his belt every time a letter comes. One letter equals one new mark across my back. I beg the letters to stop coming but they continue. Every day more letters come and every bay more blood spills from my body.
I can't move but I know I must. If I don't get breakfast prepared I will be beaten worse. As I stumble to my feet I bite my tongue to keep from crying out. My emerald eyes fill with tears but I force myself not to let them spill over. I force open the door and walk to the stove so I can begin to prepare breakfast. As I finish up breakfast and set it on the table Vernon walks from his room and places a hand on my shoulder. If anyone saw this gesture it would look like a dad praising his son but I knew he was hitting one of the cuts that sliced my back to remind me that he held the power. I bite my tongue for the second time this morning and the familiar metallic taste fills my mouth. "Back to your cupboard boy we will call you out for cleanup," Vernon says with annoyance coloring his tone. I walk back to my cupboard under the stairs and lay on my stomach while whimpering and praying Vernon doesn't hear. I haven't eaten with the family since I was physically able to feed myself. Now I can eat the scraps from their table as I clean the mess. I am only allowed to make enough food for them when I cook. I learned that the hard way after a particularly harsh beating. This means I never get enough food but I have learned to survive and ways to sneak little bits of food.
A tear falls as I move wrong and pain shoots through me. I refuse to let anymore tears fall. Showing pain to Vernon means showing weakness and that makes him hit me harder. Also, when Dudley sees me in pain he feels the need to inflict that kind of pain upon me as well. As I force the tears back a loud knock sounds on the front door. I hear the door swing open before Vernon yells "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" I flinch in fear. "I have been sent to retrieve the child," a male voice sneers at Vernon. "Where is he?" The voice continues. I am confused, can't the man see Dudley standing there or did Dudley hide? There is no response. "I will only ask once more. Where is Harry?" The man's voice is now a deadly whisper. This man was looking for me? Why? I slowly open my cupboard door and see a man with black greasy hair wearing a long black robe pointing what looks like a wooden stick at Vernon. "I'm Harry," I say, my voice coming out a whisper. The man spins around. He has a hooked nose and piercing black eyes that flash with recognition before filling with anger. The sneer on his face could make a lion turn and run the other direction.