Pleasurable Pain
Disclaimer: I don't own HP, or Draco. All I own is Shia LaBeouf &
everything included.
"Why, Father?!" I shouted. "What did I do wrong?"
I was used to this; beatings every day, death threats, touching. All from my father. I used to look up to that man? What the hell was my problem?
"Get out of my sight," Father hissed at me. "You disgust me."
I did as I was told. I couldn't take him anymore! He turned into this monster.
Before climbing the porcelain spiral staircase to my bedroom, I stopped in the kitchen. I slipped a knife from its holder and carried it hastily upstairs. I had plans for it, and I wouldn't set the blade down until they were complete.
In my haven, I observed the knife. It was a beautifully crafted dagger, with a cherry handle and a gorgeous silver edge. It had just recently been sharpened. I grinned inwardly while I slid my finger along the sharp edge. I felt a searing pain in my thumb and saw red. I loved the ease with which the shining silver blade slit my skin. I did it again, but on my arm. Blood flowed softly. I closed my eyes, taking everything in. I kept at it, and each time I lost more and more blood. I knew this was starting to get dangerous, but I didn't care. All that mattered was the pleasurable pain blazing through my body. I began to feel weak, my head swam with images of what I should have been doing with the knife: killing my father. I stood up, swaggering slightly. I walked into the bathroom, where I found bandages. I wrapped one after another on my arms to make the bleeding cease. I'm too weak, I decided. I'll do it tomorrow. Within the next two minutes, I had passed out on my bed, never to awake again.
Disclaimer: I don't own HP, or Draco. All I own is Shia LaBeouf &
everything included.
"Why, Father?!" I shouted. "What did I do wrong?"
I was used to this; beatings every day, death threats, touching. All from my father. I used to look up to that man? What the hell was my problem?
"Get out of my sight," Father hissed at me. "You disgust me."
I did as I was told. I couldn't take him anymore! He turned into this monster.
Before climbing the porcelain spiral staircase to my bedroom, I stopped in the kitchen. I slipped a knife from its holder and carried it hastily upstairs. I had plans for it, and I wouldn't set the blade down until they were complete.
In my haven, I observed the knife. It was a beautifully crafted dagger, with a cherry handle and a gorgeous silver edge. It had just recently been sharpened. I grinned inwardly while I slid my finger along the sharp edge. I felt a searing pain in my thumb and saw red. I loved the ease with which the shining silver blade slit my skin. I did it again, but on my arm. Blood flowed softly. I closed my eyes, taking everything in. I kept at it, and each time I lost more and more blood. I knew this was starting to get dangerous, but I didn't care. All that mattered was the pleasurable pain blazing through my body. I began to feel weak, my head swam with images of what I should have been doing with the knife: killing my father. I stood up, swaggering slightly. I walked into the bathroom, where I found bandages. I wrapped one after another on my arms to make the bleeding cease. I'm too weak, I decided. I'll do it tomorrow. Within the next two minutes, I had passed out on my bed, never to awake again.