take my hoodie ✓

ten | rules

~no pov

In his time at the Dursleys, Harry learnt many things: you don't cry, complain, tell anyone and you definitely don't try to escape.

The first time Harry learnt each rule, it wasn't pretty. But luckily, bruises heal, physically at least. The emotional scars they left, take time or sometimes last forever.

So, Harry never cried, complained or told anyone. He might talk back or have bad attitude, but never complained about the abuse he received. He believed he deserved it.

But he did try to escape. Multiple times. And suicide attempts counted as an escape attempt for Vernon. So, Harry stayed in his hospital bed and thought about every bad possible outcome. 

Hit? Definitely. Belted or whipped? Maybe. Locked in the cupboard? If he could fit. Starved for longer? Probably. 

"Mr Potter, you are free to leave once a guardian arrives." Joseph smiled, but stopped after properly looking at Harry. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay? I tried to kill myself and failed." He rolled his eyes. "Sorry. I know you didn't mean it like that."

Harry hated his temper and sarcasm sometimes. He didn't mean to be rude, most of the time. It was just some godawful habit he picked up and never dropped.

"You look afraid?" The nurse sat at the foot of the bed.

and you look kinda fine. are you gay and perhaps under eighteen?

"Harry, I asked your cousin this, and I don't think he told me the truth." He started. "Is there anything happening at home? Does anyone hurt you?"

yes. yes, yes, yes.

Harry wanted to tell the truth so bad, but rule number three. And, he'd get shipped off to a group home and taken away from everyone and everything he loved.

"No? Why would you assume that?"

"There are several bruises over your torso and a few scars on your back. Your arm and leg seems to be irritated slightly and you have an awful bruise on your cheekbone." Joseph explained.

"I get into a lot of fights." Harry shrugged.

"That's what your cousin told me."

"I know, he's seen most of them." and didn't decide to tell me that a nurse was figuring out the truth.

"The scars on your wrist?"

Harry looked down, ashamed. He'd not done it there for a while. He hadn't really felt like it. But now, he felt like it. And he couldn't do it. Not here, not now.

"Look, I've been there. The fighting, the cutting, the attempting. Once upon a time, I was sat where you are right now." The nurse sighed. "But I got help. I got better. And I worked hard to get to where I am now, so I could help the kids just like me. It gets better."

does it? He wanted to ask, but this nurse didn't know it all. 

"You're the Boy Who Lived, right?"

Harry groaned. He didn't usually have people notice most of the time. He was too... invisible, let's say. 

"So, tell me, why does the Boy Who Lived want to die?" 

He just shrugged again. He was even more ashamed now. How selfish of him, right? To survive a freak accident and want to die.

Joseph didn't seem to care, though. "It's alright if you don't want to tell me. But, I do want to offer you this: would you like to hang out sometime?"

"You do know I'm fifteen, right?"

"I'm fully aware. I mean as friends. I have a boyfriend and I am not a paedophile." Joseph laughed. "I just want to make sure you have someone to talk to, if you ever want to. Someone who understands."

would you understand one more other thing?

"I'd like that." Harry smiled, and they exchanged numbers. Well, actually, he just gave his to Joseph. He left all his valuables safe and hidden.

And then, once the nurse left, he realised he'd probably never get to see Joseph again unless he, y'know, attempted again. It wasn't fair that he never got to go live his life. Instead, he was shackled by an abusive dickhead who's supposed to take care of him.

Rule five, you do not get to go out. Rule six, you do everything you're told. Rule seven, you're a freak, and you will never be loved.

The last one wasn't really a rule. It was more of a way to put Harry's self-esteem and self-worth down even more. It worked.

"Harry, your uncle's here."

why him? why not petunia?

The car ride was going to be fucking brilliant. Either incredibly awkward and silent, or just yelling and yelling and, wait, you'll be surprised, more yelling.

Harry was ready to find some defibrillators and just zap the life out of him. But no, it was too late, because the whale had already been escorted in. 

Joseph gave Harry a quick look as if to say, do you need help? And of course, Harry had no other choice but to shake his head. 

The sweet nurse balled his hands into fists when he saw the way Vernon grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him out of there. 

"Just say the word and I'll get him jailed." He whispered to Harry as he got taken away. 

He shook his head again. "I'm fine."

Once they got to the car, everything dawned on him. He was used to being hurt, but it didn't mean he wasn't afraid. 

"Get in the car." 

Harry hesitated. He could pull a runner. Or go back inside and ask Joseph for help.

"Now." Vernon yelled.

His breathing got heavy, but he got in the car anyway. The last time this happened he-

"YOU KNOW THAT YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO ESCAPE."

Vernon grabbed Harry's hair and slammed his head into the window over and over. Stars clouded his vision and his once heaving breathing became restricted completely as punches winded him.

Blood fell from his mouth and stained the window when Vernon decided to punch his jaw, his face meeting the glass this time.

"You wait till we get home." Vernon warned, his hand tired. "You'll think twice before doing that again."

Harry wanted to speak, but honestly he was about to pass out, and his jaw hurt like a motherfucker. And his stomach. And honestly, he felt like there was hand-shaped bruise on his arm from when he was yanked.

He worried about what he'd look like in school tomorrow, but he didn't know it would only get worse.

fuck you, rule number four.