CREDITS:
B
elonging to one J. K. Rowling
TRIGGER WARNING:
Rape, Abuse, Murder, Torture
*Third P.O.V*
The sun was blazing down on Privet Drive, it being the middle of July helping none. The shrieking laughter of boys at one end of the street, made a small boy, who looked to be about two, maybe three years old, turn curious green eyes.
They were playing tag, he noticed. He hung his head, continuing to pull the weeds from the side of his Aunts flower bed. He continued to look for more weeds, fully engrossed in his chores, when suddenly, he was pushed from behind!
"Mummy! The freak ruined you're flowers, again!"
"Boy!" He heard his Aunt scream, he runs inside, not before he gets tripped by his cousin, of course. "How DARE you ruin my flowers! Your uncle and I slave under this roof for you! We took you in, instead of placing you in an orphanage, out of the kindness of our hearts, and this is how you repay us?!"
"I-it wasn't m-my fault, Au-" "QUIET!" She grabbed the hot frying pan from the stove, and hit him in the side of the head, effectively knocking him to the ground, before placing the pan to his skin. "You will do good to remember your place, Burden."
She held it to his skin for a few moments longer, before telling him to go to his 'room'. "Your Uncle will hear about this." He cried himself to sleep.
*a few hours later*
Thump. Thump.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
BANG!
"BOY! HOW DARE YOU RUIN MY DEALS AT WORK! I HAD AN IMPORTANT CLIENT TODAY, YOU FREAK!" Was what the small boy heard, as his uncle pulled him out of his cupboard. "You need to learn your lesson."
He dragged his nephew to the smallest bedroom, ignoring the pleas for 'Mercy!' or 'Please no!'
He opened the door, throwing the smaller male specimen inside. Giving him a predatory smirk, he grabbed his hair and pushed him to the wall, near the small cot coated in old blood and the unmistakable smell of ammonia. He clicked the bolts shut, and tore off the too loose clothing, before going to the opposite wall and opening the large box on the floor.
"We have new things to play with, Mistake." He picked up a shiny little blade, two of his grubby fingers barely holding onto it. He kicked him in his ribs, making sure to break one. He bent down, over the cot, and traced the child with the knife, making sure to slide it over scars, reopening them. Enjoying the fear in his eyes and the slight shiver he recieved, he pushed the dagger a little deeper, ignoring the small hics from the boy.
Creating several cuts along the boys body, he got up, growing bored. He made sure to step on the boys ankle, shattering it, a scream tearing through the room, and made his way to The Box.
He took the salt from it, and a specially made belt with steel spikes and ridges sewn to the sides, glued for extra measure. He whistled, eyes glinting in the darkness. He twisted his moustache a little, admiring himself in the shine of the belt.
He looked at the freak, mouth in a sadistic smirk. He flung the belt with all his might onto the boy, the screams of agony music to his fat little ears.
He continued this for hours, always out of breath, before throwing it to back to The Box. He took the salt and spread it over his back, and over his front and legs. He pulled his his pants down a little, turned on by the little boy.
"It's your fault for being too pretty, Freak." He turned the boy over, and thrust his cock into the right little hole, ignoring the screams as he moaned. He stayed doing this over and over until eight in the afternoon, when his wife knocked on the door.
"Vernon, dear, some of your friends are at the door. I'll send them here for you." She left, sending a glare at the freakish thing she called a nephew, noticing her husband nod at her.
"You are going to like this, boy, you are such a slut." The overgrown whale said, pulling his pants back up. Over twenty men came into the room, all of them the same stature as the Troll.
They all had their way with the too beautiful child, and when one of them had to leave, another joined the fray. This went on for two years, well until the small boys fifth birthday.
