Title: The Bad Man
Rating: R
Warnings: Non-con, slash, abuse of a mental invalid, molestation
Pairing: LV/HP
Summary: Harry forgot, but the Bad Man says he'll help him remember. The Bad Man says he'll fix him, but Harry would rather stay broken.

A/N: A simple fic delivered in simple mindset, written during school.

I can't remember how long it's been since I forgot, but I know it has been a while. Really, I can't remember much at all. Sometimes I even forget that I had forgotten. I like those times, though. Those times are peaceful and quiet. But the Bad Man doesn't like peace. He wants me to remember. I'd rather forget.

The Bad Man comes in my room often. Sometimes he's angry and he yells. Other times he comes in and points his magic stick at me. I scream until everything goes black. I like it when he yells or when everything goes black, though. He doesn't touch me during those times, but those times are very few. The Bad Man likes to touch me. Everywhere. He likes to touch between my legs the most. He says I'm living silk. I wish I were stone.

Once I was allowed to wear a necklace with a gleaming 'S' shape on it. I worked hard to earn that necklace. But the Bad Man took it away when I tried to see how many times the necklace could be strung around my throat. He wasn't happy. Sometimes he lets me wear it for a little while if I touch myself for him. Clothes, however, are a privledge. I'm not allowed to wear clothes. The Bad Man doesn't let me. He says I'm beautiful. I wish I were ugly.

Outside my room is off-limits. I'm not allowed outside my sanctuary. The Bad Man doesn't like to share. He only likes to take. Many nights, he takes from me. It hurts. Whenever he takes from me, he says it's like defiling a saint. I wish I were a devil.

When he takes off his clothes, I always start to cry. The Bad Man likes to see me cry. I wish I could stop myself, but I can't help it. He enjoys my screams and he makes me bleed. He likes to lick away my tears, and then he makes new ones appear. He says I should never stop crying for him. I wish I could make him cry.

The Bad Man will be happy when I remember. He says that I'll cry more and it will make me even more beautiful. He'll lavish watching me scream his name as I remember our past. When I break down from the memory of who he is and what I was, he'll be there to enjoy every shriek and tear. The Bad Man says he'll fix me, but I'd rather stay broken.

I don't want to remember anymore