Angst. 😂 Again. I'm sorry. Warning though. Every single warning that you can think off. This is pretty disturbing. Don't even know why I wrote this in the first place. Lmao. Enjoy!
Self-harm. Suicide attempt. Suicide. Suicidal thoughts. Coping mechanism. Psychological and physical torture, angst ending, poor care
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It was cold.
He felt cold.
Like a sharp pain that pierced his skin down to his bones, he felt it. It was a nasty feeling, frigid and bitter.
Whenever his friends touched his pale white skin, they would comment about his icy touch as if he was cursed to be a block of stoned ice.
The truth to it was never far.
When he started to lose his body heat, he was in the Fifth Year. The ruthless curse was cast upon him again and again. It didn't stop. It wouldn't stop.
∆
Sixth Year happened and the Dark Lord inhabited his house, the cold was starting to take over completely. It was forever freezing and sometimes his lips turned blue. Then he felt like he couldn't feel anything but the freezing temperature. As he laid down on his bed, in tears, crying to his sleep, ignoring his mother's pleading and comforting words, he felt numb. His skin was tainted and he no longer felt the warmth. He watched with blank eyes, expression void as he held his hand into the supposed heat, watching and kept on watching as the fierce orange-red engulfed his arm where the Mark was located.
His mother found him, left forearm burnt because of the flame. She cried, repeating apologies after apologies but he felt no remorse. His world was dark and devoid. It was cold. He covered it. A sign of shame.
Even as he laid on the wet floor, sobbing, bleeding profusely and his supposed enemy standing there with a horrified expression, he felt nothing. As his godfather came and healed him, as the boy fled away, he felt nothing. He felt cold. He felt numb. He was feeling everything and yet none.
∆
The Seventh Year, he left the Manor. He was forced to do things he didn't to do. Watching and listening as the Muggle Studies Professor got killed, it was nothing. Watching and listening as he tortured people in front of the Dark Lord, he felt nothing. Watching and listening as he saw Ollivander, Luna Lovegood and Dean Thomas were brought in, tortured in the dungeons, chained in the cold four walls. He secretly fed them, whispering apologies as he gave them extra food without anyone knowing.
Then he was caught by his aunt Bella. The curse was back. His screams echoed through the Manor. Though, he still felt nothing. He felt like he was just a body without a soul. Lifeless.
He wondered if they heard his pain.
Potter came with his friends. He knew that face anywhere. He knew it was Potter. Whatever form Potter took, he would always know. "What happened to his face?" he heard himself asking blankly. Potter's eyes were desperate. He thought about that green eyes that captivated him. His heart yearned for Potter. Just the slightest bit.
"I can't be sure," he said in the end.
As he watched Potter leave, he knew he would receive punishments from the Dark Lord for this. Endless. Endless. Cold.
He laid there at the Dark Lord's feet, on the uncomfortable cold tiles of the Manor, eyes dead of any emotions. He didn't cry. He couldn't. There was nothing else for him to cry about. He just hoped that Potter would make it through all of this.
