A Voice.
T/W - Abuse, read at your own discretion.
A dark body loomed over bright crimson mixed with misshapen body parts covered in dark maroon. A contrast to fresh and rotten. Deep, blood-curdling chuckles of torment scrapped across the walls, like a clock tormenting you with each tick, an everlasting wait of something unpleasant. The man couldn’t be seen, darkness surrounding everything. Protruding bones rubbed against cold, blood-covered tiles. Painful. A word seems so bland to the body that it wasn’t even a joke. Excruciating seemed more like it. Black and purple bruises seemed to be the shade of skin, the only pale white on hands and face; all a soul-wrenching concoction.
Fear; an emotion that dwells in the chest for every waking second. Even if it was a life filled with this pain and this hatred. Fear was still a definite factor that took a toll on a life. It tore it down like wallpaper from a wall and rip it up to little shreds. This body wasn’t some stupid house that is getting revamped, they are a life and should be treated as such. Not vermin or a rag doll. They were used and hated, blood constantly spilling and pain forever lingering.
The short and overly fat body came closer and closer, a light slowly illuminating them. At first, it was a face, it was such a disgusting face, one with layers of fat and more skin due to that which gave it a rounded look. He had facial hair and had a malicious look in his eyes. It was terrifying.
A face slowly grew to shoulders and so forth; revealing a very much naked man. Rolls of fat came down, his body looking like a pit of tar as it swung in his steps. Two more and he was in front of the very frail and crimson covered body. A wicked look on his face. “Don’t you dare move or say a word boy, I’m sure you will enjoy it.” More torturous chuckles echoed through the walls and the fear rises with the smell of death. Rotting blood that was weeks and months old was such a pungent smell. It, however, worsened with every day.
The man got down onto his knees and viciously grabbed the legs; a whimper of pain accidentally slipped out. Causing anger to fill the horrid man. He roughly threw the small body over so their back was facing the ceiling. Pain. Pain and more pain coursed through the body, never coming to a stop which made a burning sensation fly over; like needles poking under the skin then back out constantly everywhere.
Suddenly, with a harsh movement, there was a burning within them, not just the skin. A feeling like no other. Not only was the pain worse it made them feel dirty and disgusting within themself to have such thing inside them. This man was doing the worst imaginable and was moaning with it. Kindness wasn’t something shown, instead; hands held the body down and held buttcheeks so far apart it was almost tearing. Fast and rough thrusts were only to pleasure himself and with each one, it felt worse and worse. A sobbing couldn’t be stopped which only made the treatment worse. Scarlet trickled down and the man grabbed their member; twisting and pulling in a sadistic manner.
This went on for what seemed like hours until a new body entered the frame. This one; even in the light not being able to be seen. Heavy footsteps and hard breathing the only sounds as the body ran over and knocked the fat man away. Yelling and words of spells silencing the room. Sobs and shuffling the final sounds.
“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I will protect you. I promise Harry.”
Harry awoke with a jolt, sweat coating his bruised and malnourished body. He started to quietly sob as the nightmare’s every moment filled his memories. The nightmare was a memory of a horrid night but the only odd thing was a voice. A voice he knew he would remember. A voice that saved him.
He couldn’t dwell on the thought for long as his body itched and burned. He felt disgusting to have had Vernon’s hands on him in such a way. In response, he got out of bed with some fresh clothes and rushed to the shower. He needed to scrub his body no matter how much it hurt to get the touch off. The water was boiling hot but that didn’t matter to Harry; his skin use to such temperatures. He scrubbed and scrubbed; skin becoming raw and parts peeling off around old wounds and scars. The feeling never left and he spent hours there, water running cold as he used so much. Potter ended up sobbing under the water; curled up into a ball with watered-down blood running down the drain.
The only comfort was the voice in the nightmare. Which that didn’t even do much for him.
A/N - A massive trigger warning to you all. I hope you enjoy the start of my new and first Tomarry. Please leave a vote and comment!
It's a good story