Malignant [h.s]

Forty Eight

Harry kept his little ears plugged at the screams coming from the upstairs. The pitch black basement was so cold in the winter months that his little sister Elizabeth kept her knees pushed to her chest and snuggled under Harry's arm- desperate for warmth.

"Shut the fuck up whore!" The bellowing shouts from Harry's dad screamed at the mom. Elizabeth pushed up against Harry even harder by the sounds of her father screams, making her shake.

Harry tried so hard to tune out the high pitch screams and the sounds of flying objects that took place right above them but it was no use. He was to exposed to the nature of abuse and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Harry stands up and grabs the small blanket he and his sister use to sleep on, bringing it over and laying it on her small five year old body. She was shaking so hard that he was afraid for her health, so he wrapped the small blanket around her smaller body.

It's been eighteen days that the young siblings Harry and Elizabeth have been locked up in the cold concrete basement by their father, Axel Styles. The two children survived off of water from the old rusty sink and whatever food that was thrown down to them every few days, usually bread or a box of saltine crackers.

Even though Harry was only six, he was strong- strong because he had to be. His sister is five years old and has never spoken a word because she was too scared to. Harry and Elizabeth used to have a bedroom, a small one with just a bed- but they were bedrooms. Until one day his father decided that they didn't deserve their own room, and threw them both down in concrete basement with a blanket to share.

Harry looks up at the only glimpse of light that came from the old barred up window at the top of the concrete wall, knowing that once more snow comes down it will soon cover it and they will just be left in the complete darkness forever. He stares at the window through his bruised eye and dreams. He dreams about a life that doesn't involve yelling and screaming. He dreams about a life that he can step outside again and see the leaves on the branches and the happy children riding their bikes down the street. He dreams of the happiness he never was given all his life.

But after years of living in a abusive broken home- Harry starts to question if life ever got better. He never understood what he did to live a terrible life and not know what it was like to be loved. Everything Harry ever knew was things he figured out himself because no one was there help him.

Harry's first day of school was the day he realized that other kids were different from him. Other kids had parents who walked them to school and kissed them goodbye. They had fancy bright backpacks with fancier lunches inside when Harry had a plastic shopping bag with and an applesauce. From that moment forward Harry realized at such a young age that he wasn't good enough like the rest of these kids. That the things these kids thought were normal was something he couldn't imagine in his wildest dreams.

The teachers always knew something wasn't good in Harry's home life, just by the way they never saw his parents and how he showed up with a new mark on his skin every week. The teachers knew about this but never said anything because they knew who his father was- and they knew what he was capable of. Elizabeth has never gone to school, she was never enrolled. So when she didn't go Harry didn't because he was too scared to leave her alone in this house all day.

At such a young age Harry felt like he was drowning, trying to grasp onto a hand that wasn't reaching out for him. He treaded water for so long in need for dry land but eventually gave up and let the dark water consume him, becoming one with it. He learned that if life wasn't going to help him out then he didn't need it, he didn't think he deserved it.