Beautiful Silent Boy [L.S]

The Pursuit of Perfection

A/N: Hello my lovelies. I am typing up this chapter for you all so yay :D I actually wrote this in my PreCalc class in my notebook, so I've had it done for almost a week now, but I just haven't had the time to type it up. I apologize. I will do my best to update more frequently. It's difficult to do with AP courses. My AP History teacher assigns my class 50 pages of reading a night and we are quizzed on it the next day. (And A+ if you figured out that I base the teachers off of my own instructors). So, as far as the next couple chapters go, they should be fairly light and fluffy, but it will not last. We still have some plot twists and elements to develop. Enjoy.

---> Wordy chapter ahead. Also, it's an abuse chapter. Anyone triggered by this should skip it. Otherwise, feel free to read it, but be considerate of yourself and others when doing so.

(HARRY POV)

I sat on my bed and ruffled the covers a bit. I swallowed thickly and looked over at Louis, who remained blissfully patient.

"My dad," I breathed, "was not a great man. I deluded myself into believing that he was, but that just wasn't the case."

I looked at my legs and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, letting warm tears trickle down my cheeks.

"I-I put him on some kind of pedestal," I choked, biting my sleeve to repress a sob.

"I just couldn't deal with the reality of it."

I looked at Louis, searching his eyes for pity, or disappointment, or some form of judgment, but found none.

"I remember the first time I realized my dad wasn't like everyone elses'. We were at school and I remember we were playing and one of my friends asked me why I had bruises all over my arms and stuff. I laughed at him because I thought the question was silly. I said, 'I was bad. Duh,' but they all looked at me weird. So I asked them, 'Doesn't your Pa hit you when you're bad?' And they all shook their heads no. I couldn't understand..." I trailed off, "I couldn't understand why," I strained.

I pushed back my curls and wiped my face. I took a deep breath and continued.

"In my house, I was raised to believe that if you disobeyed your father you were punished by him. He always did it when mum and Gemma weren't home because he said it wasn't a 'woman's business' and that this was how men handled things. He said that they wouldn't understand. He told me I was too old to be making these kinds of mistakes and that I should grow out of affection."

Louis nodded for me to continue.

"He'd make me strip sometimes if I was really bad. I'd kneel down in front of my bed and he'd make me recite a prayer of his choice while he lashed me. He said it would help me to reflect on my sin," I stopped and drew my knees into my chest and hugged them.

"'Harry, we respect our neighbours.' 'Harry, you are a man. A man does not cry.' 'Harry it is sinful to be so close to other men. You will be damned to hell if you do not repent.' 'Harry if you disobey me further you will feel the wrath of the bearer of sin.' 'We know not of what we do, and for that we will be forgiven. But Harry, you know better. You know the ways of your sin,'" I recited, repeating all the things my father had said to me.

"It made me feel like some kind of animal. I felt like I was a caged creature that was being punished by the keeper. It wasn't right," I bit back a sob.

"Every time my father beat me, he would say those kinds of things to try and help me understand. Mum would see the marks sometimes and she'd ask what had happened. I always had an excuse though. I felt so clever when I came up with a new excuse, and thought my dad would be proud, but God damn it, he never was!" I screamed in frustration, and threw a pillow across the room.