Too far gone (Harry Potter)

Chapter 1

Harry's POV:

I can't do it anymore. You see i'd yet again had a nightmare about Cedric dying. It keeps me up all night. I started getting panicked attacks recently and have no idea what to do. I barely eat or drink or sleep. I feel disgusting, like I'm not worthy of it.

I'm sitting here alive and healthy (well at least to me) but Cedric is currently lying 6 feet under after being murdered at only 17 years of age.

The ministry say that I'm lying, so I'm being slandered like usual...I started doing something again that I know I shouldn't but I can't help it. You see when I was younger I smoked. At about 12. I stopped when I found out about Siri and Remy. I felt I no longer needed it but when we still can't prove Siri's innocence, I have to stay here with the dreaded Dursleys who beat me daily.

So I went back to the run down side of Surrey and bought cigarettes, marijuana and I even bought lots of alcohol. Honestly I couldn't care less I was slowly killing myself...I don't deserve to live.

AN: to anyone reading who is feeling like this, you do deserve to live and you should tell someone. I'm writing this in his perspective, how he feels. He doesn't deserve all the hurt he goes through.

Nobody cares about me...I'm all alone. Nobody writes to me or comes to visit or invites me to there house. Not even the Weasleys anymore. I understand though, who'd want to be around a drunken, drug addict who is wallowing in self pity. I wouldn't. My cousin calls me pathetic on a daily basis. When I was younger I used to tell him I wasn't but now...he right I am pathetic.

After my Uncle gave me my daily beating I couldn't even stand. So I ended up crawling to the loose floorboard in my room and pulled out some cannabis (weed) and smoked it. Eventually it numbed the pain and made me feel good. I am at the point where I have to either get stoned or blindly drunk to not feel dead inside.

After smoking it I can stand without any pain, I know it's not healthy but once again it's all I can do. I walk into the bathroom and lock the door. I go to the toilet and then shower. With cold water obviously as according to Vernon and Petunia, freaks don't deserve hot water.

I don't mind anyway, I can barely feel it because I'm also so stoned. When I'm sober, I feel a raging depression grow within seconds and I can't handle it. That's why I HAVE to smoke. I start shaking violently if I don't as I go through withdrawal. They starve me here but it again doesn't matter. After taking drugs I'm never hungry. After showing I look in the mirror. I looked awful. But once more I didn't care. I didnt feel anything because I'm so numb.

My cheeks and eyes are sunken, I look like Sirius after he escaped from prison. Maybe worse. My eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep and you can see my ribs I'm so thin. I would probably weigh the same amount as a healthy 11 year old. It didn't help that somehow even with the malnutrition I was still tall for my age. I was glad I was tall but also worried about what everybody would think when they saw how thin I was.

My tall height makes me seem even thinner as the skin stretches out to fit the body, but when there's zero fat on my body the skin really has to stretch. Especially on my face, the skin is tight on my cheekbones.

I've always had high cheekbones and a sharp jawline but now they are unnaturally so with my skinny body.

I punched the mirror, not wanting to look at myself any longer as I might begin to feel something.

That's the weird thing with me, I want to be numb and emotionless but I also want to feel something, anything just to make me feel alive.

Relatable or not^^

I felt a sharp pain in my knuckle so I retracted my hand. There was a jagged piece of glass from the mirror lodged in between my index finger and my middle finger's knuckles.

It felt good. The pain felt amazing! I wanted more. So I did make more pain. I slid the sharp piece of the mirror across my wrist but then suddenly realisation hit me of what I was doing and I dropped the shard in horror.

Why did I do that!? And why did it feel so good?!

It finally made me feel something other than grief and depression. The pain made me feel alive! I picked the shard back up and continued what I was doing.

It made me feel alive. Something I hadn't felt for weeks. It almost made me happy but I didn't think that was possible. The last time I genuinely smiled was just before Sirius rode away on Buckbeak and the last time I saw Remus before he resigned.

Like sure I saw Remus at Kings Cross when the order warned my relatives about looking after me, but it only made it worse and I knew that it would. So I wasn't happy not at all.

———skip———-

I was doing it again, cutting that is. I had already made 8 long lines of scarlet on each of my porcelain coloured wrists. I was sickly pale, rather different to my natural slightly sun kissed skin.

"I'm sorry Ced... it's all my fault. It's always my fault." I muttered sadly.

I had just woken up from ANOTHER nightmare and as soon as I woke up, I had a panic attack. I did the only thing I could think of to feel alive again so I cut. But I got a little too into it so now I feel light headed. I had run out of drugs so I decided to sneak out to see my mates who had more.

This was now my life. I cut to make myself remember I am alive and smoke and take drugs to numb my emotions. It evens out the playing fields.

Cutting literally keeps me alive, otherwise I'd loose myself to drugs or even suicide. I had been getting suicidal thoughts a lot recently...

End of chapter

-B