I'm sorry this took so freaking long, but alas, I had a case of writer's block. And I was feeling PMS-y. I regret to say, this story will be rather short, and there maybe character death. Please enjoy this chapter.
Not So Perfect Chapter 3Harry felt… nothing. He was numb. It was like reading a story; "… and Harry was severely injured, sitting in the cold basement of his Aunt and Uncle's house. It hurt very much." Harry could not feel his injuries. He was glad, though. His Uncle had been harsher than usual, probably because he was drunk.
He looked though the small window at the sky. Stars twinkled happily outside the window in the small blotch of sky Harry could see. It was like the stars were mocking me. That happened a lot. Inanimate objects would appear to be mocking him, people he didn't know. They would show him what he couldn't have. They would show him what it was he didn't deserve.
Isn't it strange, how if you're told something often enough, you start to believe it's true? At first, it's just a small though in the back of your mind, part of the what-ifs, but you push it away, to the back of your mind. And it sort of grows there, silently, every time you think of it, until one day, you're lying in the dark, and that 'what if" though becomes more… real like it's… solid, and the rest if your thoughts are gas, or liquid. Suddenly, that thought stands out, and you can't deny it.
It was like that for Harry. At first, he had denied the fact that the things his Uncle said were true. But slowly, he started to believe them, and eventually, Harry took those words to be the truth, and now no longer questioned them.
The sun was just starting to rise, and he wondered where the night had gone; where those damned stars had gone. Harry noticed something on the floor. It shined ever so slightly in the dim light of the basement.
A knife.
It was his uncle's knife, the one he had used to carve 'FREAK' on his arm. The blade barely had any blood on it, and the blade now gleamed almost innocently in the morning sun. Harry didn't want it near him. It, too, was mocking him. It was demonstrating how one, small(it wasn't a very big knife) metal object could have so much power over him.
He was so weak. If he couldn't stand up to a knife, if a knife scared him so much, how could he stand up to his uncle? But he had no reason to stand up to him, so what did it matter? He was worthless and stupid, so there was no need to stand up to his uncle.
Right?
otakuintrainig-san: YAAAY! You love my story! hehe… I think maybe I'm over-doing the angst… oh well… see, I updated! I updated!
Harm Marie-san: it's not that bad 'cause I'm using spell check. and believe me, NOBODY in my family would proof read my stories. My mom can't know I have this account(plus I have to keep up the I'm-still-sorta-inocent act, my brother, well, he's my brother, he wouldn't do it if I asked, and same thing as my mom for my dad. Thank you! yes, I know, --' as I said above, I was a tad bit PMS-y at the time… and I'm to stupid to think of begging… hmm… bribing, though… I'm happy you want to read further!
silver115-san: thank you! I will continue(under no circumstances will I stop writing this fic, unless I die or go into a veggie-state), and I know they're short(I swear they looked longer in my notebook!), but… well, my not-that-existent plot demanded that I stop were I did(translation: I felt that was a good place to stop OR I wanted to make it longer but wanted to get the chapter up).
Hello, dearest peoples. Yes, I am talking to all of you, those that have review(Thank You) those that will review(Thank you!), those that haven't and won't(what's so hard about pushing the damn button?)!
Sorry.
And now meny of you are asking what I'm saying sorry about. Well, I called several of you peoples 'baka'. For those of you who do not know, this means idiot in japanese.
If you review, I promise I will vist your profile(if you are signed in) and read any and all storys that I find interesting! and if a do read, I willl review!
You'll also get a cookie.