The Scars That Haunt Me

Chapter 8

Harry's POV

I was curled up on my bed in the Slytherin dungeons. I decided to skip the rest of the day of classes.
I didn't want to deal with Malfoy or anyone else that knew about what happened with Malfoy and Umbridge.

My blood is still boiling. He had the audacity to go up to Snape and tell him I was having nightmares, not only that, but he acted like he was an innocent little brat when I confronted him about it.

Granted, I probably shouldn't have reacted that way. Maybe I did go a little over board....

No way. I should have punched him in the face, knocked his teeth out, kicked him, something! I knew I couldn't trust him and yet, I sorta did.

It was dinner time by this point and I made no effort to leave the bed.

No one bothered me, which I was grateful for. I feel as though I might snap at someone if they approach me.

A few hours later, everyone came back to the room.

I laid there and pretended to sleep, at least until I had to go to detention in the next few minutes.

"Is he asleep?" Blaise asked.

"Probably. He ditched classes for the rest of the day. Even skipped lunch and dinner." I could hear Malfoy sigh. "He must really be mad at me."

"Why? What did you do?" Blaise asked Malfoy.

"I went and talked to Snape. So he talked to him and I guess Harry put two and two together and found out I had talked to him."

"Oh. So that's why he yelled at you during Defense Against the Dark Arts." Was all Blaise could say.

I better go. If I don't, I'm sure to get my head bashed in.

I stood up and slipped my shoes on.

"Where are you going?" Goyle asked.

I didn't reply. I wasn't in the mood.

"He's got detention with Umbridge. You should know, you were in class with us." Malfoy replied.

I left the room and headed to Umbridges office.

When I got there I knocked on her door. Her squeaky high pitched voice said, "Come in." I entered the room.

It was entirely pink with glass plates on the walls with moving kittens. It was extremely girlie like, but very creepy.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. Please take a seat." I sat down on the chair in front of her desk. "Today you will be writing lines for me. You will be using my quill to get the job done, however."

I picked up her quill and looked down at the parchment in front of me. "What am I writing? And how many times?"

"You will be writing. 'I must not tell lies' and you'll be writing it until...well...until it sinks in let's say."

So I started writing.

I must not tell lies. Ouch. What was that?

I looked at my hand, it was slightly red. I brushed it off and continued.

I must not tell-ow!

What on Earth?

I must not- ok seriously. This is ridiculous.

My hand was getting darker and as I continued to write the lines, letters started to appear on my hand. It read 'I must not tell lies' in my very own messy hand writing. Just like I had been writing on the parchment. Blood slipped and fell onto the table.

This is abuse. Is she even allowed to do that?!

I looked up at her. She had a menacingly grin on her disgusting face.

"Well now, Mr. Potter. I hope that taught you something. You may leave."

I got up and left the room.

I looked down at the back of my hand.

I need to get the blood off.

So before I headed back to the commons, I went to the bathroom. I got the blood off, but it was still deep enough that it would eventually scar. Maybe not a permanent one though. Or I hope.

Afterwards, I went back through the commons and up to our dorm.

Everyone seemed to be sitting on the floor chatting.

They all looked up at me when I entered.

"That was quick. How was detention Harry?" Blaise asked.

I looked at him for a moment before going to grab some fresh PJs and headed towards the bathroom. "Fine, I'm taking a shower." I told everyone.

I was in the shower for quite some time. I didn't want to come out and face everyone. I just wasn't feeling up to doing much anymore.

I'm exhausted, even though I actually got decent sleep last night.

Not surprising I guess, it has been an eventful day.

Malfoy kept coming to my mind. I'm still mad at him for what he did. It was not his secret to tell and yet he still did.

At least him, nor Snape knows about the cutting.

I mean, no one knows, not even Ron, Hermione, or even Dumbledore. It's a secret I have kept with me since I was ten.

Yes. I have been hurting myself since I was ten. At first, I did it only to feel in control of something in my life for once, but now, it's an addiction. One I don't want to be rid of.

I looked down at my wrists. There are scars, cuts, and scabs all the way up past my elbow. There are even more on my stomach and thighs.

No one can help me. I'm a lost cause, someone,  which will die eventually. Though whether it'd be by my own hands or Voldemort, is still not clear.

I got out of the shower and got in my long sleeved shirt and my black and white checkered pants.

When I left the bathroom, everyone was all in their beds fast asleep.

Lucky them. I thought.

I crawled up into my bed and shut the curtain around me.

I mostly just laid there. Stuck between exhaustion and being wide awake.

All I wanted to do was sleep. I wanted it to take me over. I prayed that I wouldn't wake up from nightmares, but I'm not ever so lucky.