I am the child the world forgot to love | A Harry Potter fanfiction

The holiday

Harry Potter had changed since he was four years old. In fact he was barely recognizable. He had mats in his hair, a pale complection and was so skinny you could see all his bones through his skin. That was not the worst of it though. Harry's uncle stormed into Harry's cupboard and began beating him. Harry welcomed it, feeling at piece as his uncle abused him, thumping his fists, biting him. His uncle pulled out a knife and Harry watched him tentatively watched as his uncle sliced him open. Harry didn't have much fat on him, but the little fat he did have shone inside his deep wounds. 

"I hope you like pain, boy! I'm going to cut you up and make you bleed to death!" Vernon said, stabbing Harry in the leg. Harry arched his back, relishing in the pain as it overtook him. Vernon laughed, mistaking Harry's movement for pain and discomfort. Sure, it hurt but that was What Harry was addicted too. He was addicted to the pain overtaking him. His uncle reached to the bottle of rum he had beside him and took a swig. He poured some into Harrys mouth and Harry downed as much as he could. His uncle loved when Harry drank, it made his blood run out liquid and he could see the boy dying inside and out. 

Harry's head was spinning in circles. Alcohol mixed with lack of food was draining him as he bled all over the place. Harry's uncle turned him over, pushing his face into the dirty carpet beneath him. The smell burned Harry's nose but he was too busy to care. Some might say that because Harry enjoyed the pain that it was okay, but in reality his mind was so reliant on this pain to feel alive only because it felt nothing else. If Harry was to feel loved, perhaps he would no longer require pain at all and even begin to dislike it. But now, in this very moment, Harry was enjoying every moment of this feeling. 

His uncle loved cutting into his skin, carving words into him. His uncle slashed into him, his watercolour blood dripping to the floor. His uncle pulled out a lighter, holding it against Harry's skin. His skin blistered and his uncle watched. Harry shut his eyes tightly. It hurt, but he focused on it and the way it made him feel inside; calm yet erratic, silent yet loud. Harry was in love with this feeling, it was the only thing that he had now. His mind was numb, but his body was full of sensation that helped him know that he was alive, not that he would care either way.

His uncle removed his own belt and slapped it against his back. Harry bit his lip and closed his eyes, focusing on the pain with all his might. Freak, ugly, fat, waste of space, good for nothing, faggot, unwanted, unloved. Those words hovered over him at all times, spinning around his head. He knew he was unloved, he knew he would never be saved. He didn't want to be saved. He wanted to stay broken like he deserved. Petunia, Harry's aunt, tapped on the door. 

"Once you're done, Vernon, we are leaving for our holiday!" Petunia said, sounding agitated. "Make sure the boy can't move! I left a dining chair outside the cupboard." 

Vernon picked up a rope that had been dumped in the mess of Harry's cupboard and pulled the chair into the prison. And pulled Harry up onto the chair, throwing him against the wood harshly. As tightly as he could, Vernon tied the rope around Harry and made sure he was gagged. They would be gone the whole weekend and Harry was to stay put the whole time without food or water. Harry didn't care. He would be left with the dull ache of his uncles last marks. At least his uncle told him the truth; Harry was a pathetic waste of space who deserved this pain and suffering. Vernon had done a good job tying him up. Harry couldn't move his arms, legs or any part of him without feeling pain from the ropes digging into him. 

Vernon stabbed the knife into him again, this time not removing it. His uncle snickered and left the room, leaving Harry to his own devices. Harry wanted to stay awake just so he could feel the pain a little longer. Harry passed out, despite wanting to stay awake. His dreams were filled with a man in a black cloak stealing him away from what he deserved.

He hoped that man never came.

AN - Please leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter!