Murder He Wrote [ l.s ]

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WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND DEATH 

// Again, I apologize for the late update. I am utterly hammered with school, family, and boyfriend things. I wrote a longer chapter to make up for it though. Read the warning please, this is graphic violence and character death, it can be triggering. Also, all horrible rhyming in narration is mine, the poems are mine, and the jokes are NOT mine. I have some ratchet rhyming skills in my narration it is on purpose. 

5.1K words

Song Inspiration: Let's Kill Tonight -Panic! At The Disco//

I'm possessed by a demon; don't blame me for my actions.

Demons tend to control people you know.

But the demon of lust was a cruel fellow,

body of red, a tiny smile above.

Don't look into those eyes, I'm warning you now.

You'll never come back.

You won't know how.

Harry wrote for hours on end after the bedroom fiasco, he didn't want to speak in fear of his tainted mouth. But his blood was soaking in his words, screaming out, and crying for release. His mind was in limbo, his eyes were blinded; that's all it ever seemed to be.

His throat burned still, he can still feel his hands in his hair.

He wonders if it will ever stop.

He wonders if he wants it to stop.

Dark times are here, maybe to swiftly at our feet.

Writing with the intent to cry isn't the plan for most, but for Harry what other plan could there be?

He was left alone for some time, he lost his track of time when he was laid upon the bed, and touched. Touched is a funny word, a sad, cruel word. Touching is what lovers do, though touching is what disgusting people do to.

Now here's a sad part,

Harry doesn't remember.

No, no, no. He remembers the beginning of it all. The beautiful loss of breathe and salty demise, he remembers those moments the most of all. He doesn't remember what happened after that, his mind blanked, his body became possessed. He wishes that's what happened. The demon came in through his throat and the demon was swallowed down; it attached to all the veins, all the parts of his brain. He was just a puppet.

You know what's even sadder? He doesn't know if he consented, doesn't know if he said yes, maybe a no. God but deep inside their is something even sadder, even darker; he doesn't know what he did. He doesn't know where he was touched, where he was violated.

He knows he woke up, but maybe it's a dream.

Pray to God it's a dream.

Though dreams are our realest reality.

He woke up with no clothes and draped in a blanket,

Promise to my mother,

I won't take those demons.

Promise to my father,

I'd never touch those demons.

Looked at the demons,

kissed the deadliest one.

What is a demon? Harry's mind isn't like the rest, it's dark and desolate with a chance of cladding and a chance of tragic uncontemplated death. Demons are the Devil's right hand man. They possess the victim for the pleasure of the Devil.