A/N I am so sorry for the wait. Before you expect much don't because it's
only a memory. I'm working off a friend's computer. My laptop is not
working so well right now so when it is all better I will update the next
chapter.
Mouths have flown by since Christmas, all of them holding knew surprises. It is now been a whole year, to the hour, since I began my new and better life with my parents. Although I still remember those days:
The cold slinked into my skin; I shivered and whimpered I was sure I sounded like a kicked pup. Then again that was what I was, a kicked child, whimpering for safety. I felt as my uncles rough hand clenched my torn and stained shirt and lifted me up, up to meet his eyes. Never did I look into those eyes though, I knew better, if I looked down he thought he was in control and he was I suppose. "Look up you stupid rat." Slowly I lifted my eyes, not my chin you never do that, and looked at his face. "Your worthless, who knows why your trash parents never threw you away." I glared at him and still glared as he threw me across the room. One, two three four. he was in front of me in moments, and was dragging me to the kitchen. "You'll learn never to give me that look boy." My uncle was switching me to his left hand and grabbed my left hand with his free hand. I felt the heat flow from the burner and tried to escape. I wiggled and dangled my legs, it was no use, so I let my body go limp. My face dropped, shoulders sagged and my body became a rag doll. The small invisible wisps of heart weaved between my fingers and I could feel it getting warmer, feel my mind disagreeing of where my hand was. I tried to tell it that I had no choice and tried to brace my lips tight. I screamed, and although no one besides my uncle could have heard the sound he did not seem to care. For a third time that day he threw me, I skidded across the wooden kitchen floor. I still remember to this day the pain of every bone bruising strike. When my uncle hand put me in the cupboard that night I had sneaked a peek at the wound and winced; the skin was raw and red, redder far then some of my skin after a beating.
Sunday afternoon. September 24. 1:09 by Harry Potter age six.
Mouths have flown by since Christmas, all of them holding knew surprises. It is now been a whole year, to the hour, since I began my new and better life with my parents. Although I still remember those days:
The cold slinked into my skin; I shivered and whimpered I was sure I sounded like a kicked pup. Then again that was what I was, a kicked child, whimpering for safety. I felt as my uncles rough hand clenched my torn and stained shirt and lifted me up, up to meet his eyes. Never did I look into those eyes though, I knew better, if I looked down he thought he was in control and he was I suppose. "Look up you stupid rat." Slowly I lifted my eyes, not my chin you never do that, and looked at his face. "Your worthless, who knows why your trash parents never threw you away." I glared at him and still glared as he threw me across the room. One, two three four. he was in front of me in moments, and was dragging me to the kitchen. "You'll learn never to give me that look boy." My uncle was switching me to his left hand and grabbed my left hand with his free hand. I felt the heat flow from the burner and tried to escape. I wiggled and dangled my legs, it was no use, so I let my body go limp. My face dropped, shoulders sagged and my body became a rag doll. The small invisible wisps of heart weaved between my fingers and I could feel it getting warmer, feel my mind disagreeing of where my hand was. I tried to tell it that I had no choice and tried to brace my lips tight. I screamed, and although no one besides my uncle could have heard the sound he did not seem to care. For a third time that day he threw me, I skidded across the wooden kitchen floor. I still remember to this day the pain of every bone bruising strike. When my uncle hand put me in the cupboard that night I had sneaked a peek at the wound and winced; the skin was raw and red, redder far then some of my skin after a beating.
Sunday afternoon. September 24. 1:09 by Harry Potter age six.