Chapter 1
James enters his son's room. The child he had with his late wife. The child who looks so much like him. The child who has his mother's green eyes and effeminate features. Unless it's because of his young age. After all, Harry was only nine years old.
The little boy is curled up into a ball at the bottom of his wardrobe. He is afraid. He knows what's to come. He heard his father approaching his room and he smelled this crushed skunk smell that precedes every visit of his father in his bed.
It's the smell of evil. The smell of the stick that his dad always smokes before putting white powder in his nose. The smell that always precedes the moments when his dad hurts him. So Harry is hiding. He doesn't want to hurt. He doesn't want to go to bed with his dad who wants to do things not well. Except that he is too small to defend himself. He can only suffer.
The only good thing is that when his dad has finished hurting his butt, he tells him that he is the person he loves the most in the world. And this is the only time his father tells him that because he usually reproaches him for his great resemblance to his mother and refuses to have him in front of his eyes.
So Harry always ends up letting himself go. To have a little love from his dad.
