Chapter three

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"What are those, boy?" His Uncle Vernon bellowed angrily, clutching Harry's still bleeding wrist. Harry looked at him and shivered, not knowing what to say. Harry stayed silent which was a bad desition to make in this situation. 

Vernon pushed Harry to the ground before he walked to get something from the kitchen. Harry clutched his arm, the blood warm on his fingers. He had no idea what his uncle was going to do to him, but he knew it was going to be bad. 

Vernon ordered Harry to sit on a chair before he began tying his legs to the chairs legs, and his arms tied to the arms so that his wrists where upwards. His uncle smiled sadistically before he got a knife out and started adding to the cuts Harry had already created. 

His uncle tried his best to make them as deep but then went upstairs to retrieve a razor. He began adding them as Harry did his best not to cry. But that wasn't the worst of it. His uncle turned off the lights. 

Suddenly, his cuts started burning amazingly badly and Harry couldn't help but let out a scream. A loud one at that, his uncle picked up on of Dudley's scarfs and gagged Harry before he continued to rub the salt into his wounds.

Harry rocked on the chair, the pain being overwhelming. His uncle kept on, however, causing Harry to cry. Harry could Hardly see with the lights on because of his broken glasses but now it was just darkness and overwhelming pain.

But then the telephone rang. Vernon stumbled over to the phone, grumbling the whole way there about somebody ruining his fun. 

"Hello? Yes, this is Vernon Dursley. Right! Yes, of course, Mr Clarkson. Today? Oh no no, that's fine. Alright. I'll be there right away." Vernon smirked at Harry as he lowered the phone. 

"Dudley, Petunia and I will be away for two days." He told Harry. "So I'm going to be giving you a punishment for screaming while we're gone." 

Vernon dragged Harry in his chair and put him in his cupboard. He gave him a glass of water and ordered him to drink it quickly so he would not be faced with a murder charge. Before he left, Vernon put salt on Harry's wounds once more so that when he sweat the pain would get much worse. 

He put a broomstick down Harry's bloodstained t-shirt so that Harry sat up straight, and made sure the brushes scrapped the back of his neck. Harry was horrified. Two days of this with no means of escape. 

To be doubly safe it seemed, Vernon locked the door from the outside and left Harry to sit alone, tied upright, to sit and waste away two days of his life.  

Maybe he was better of dead. Maybe then it wouldn't be so bad.

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