A/N: Sorry for the long absence. I'm working full time at the moment, until I go to university in September. I have been able to write this in my spare time, and have just finished chapter 8.
WARNING: This story is very disturbed and contains rape and child abuse. Do not read it if you don't like it. No flamers to have a go at me, I have warned you.
When the door slammed, Harry knew he was in trouble.
"Boy!" Uncle Vernon screamed from just inside the door, "You think you can get those freaks to try and scare us?"
Harry murmured a "no," as he turned towards the stairs, hauling his trunk and Hedwig's cage behind him. Hedwig would already be in his bedroom.
"Not so fast boy!" Vernon spat out, and the nest thing Harry knew, his head hit the wall hard.
Remembering this from before his time at Hogwarts, he stopped his cry of pain from escaping, as he knew it would only make things worse.
Going back to what happens next, Harry slid to the floor and curled into a ball. Just as he had known, his uncle started kicking every part of Harry he could reach.
Though he stayed silent throughout, inside Harry was screaming in agony as he felt bones break under his uncle's unceasing foot.
"Worthless piece of scum." Vernon continued his tirade of abuse towards his cowering nephew. "We should have left you in an orphanage years ago. You're the reason for all our misfortune. Can't see why your so-called 'friends' want to be anywhere near you."
This continued for a long time, before Harry started coughing up blood. At the sight, Vernon recoiled, but then dragged Harry from the ground towards the cupboard, before chucking him in.
As Harry's world started turning to black, he heard his trunk being taken up the stairs, and Harry's last thoughts were that he was lucky to have gotten off so lightly. He would be in for a lot worse before he went back to school in September.
As Harry drifted back to consciousness, the pain also returned, causing him to moan weakly. He slowly felt himself to discover how much was broken and found a couple of broken ribs and a broken left arm. Looking down, he saw the blood he had coughed up during the night. 'Well, at least I'm not coughing up blood any more' he thought.
Harry heard the locks being undone from the door and his uncle loomed over him. Forcing him into the kitchen, his uncle snarled, "You're making the breakfast boy. And try not to burn anything."
Getting to work, Harry made breakfast for everyone, and was just about to get something for himself to eat when Vernon barked, "Now you have to wash up."
When the washing up was done, Vernon thrust a long sheet of paper into Harry's hand. "Make sure you get everything on here done, or it will be worse for you."
Harry knew it was going to be bad enough, but the thought of his uncle making it worse, he made his way slowly into the garden to start cutting the grass with his one good arm. He just hoped he would be able to do it all.
Harry was about to collapse when he completed his final task, to paint the fence. He hadn't been allowed any lunch and was starving.
He made his way in through the back door, remembering to first take off his trainers, and was in the kitchen when uncle Vernon arrived home.
"Boy! You should have dinner on by now." He screamed, and Harry got everything out to make it. Somehow he managed to cook dinner with only his right arm, as his left arm hung by his side, useless. His aunt watched him like a hawk to make sure that he didn't have anything to eat himself. When dinner was served, Harry was sent up to his room, and he gladly left the Dursleys.
On his way back, he took a detour into the bathroom, and opened the medicine cabinet. At the back, he found an old tub old painkillers and took them. There was a newer tub, but he thought his aunt would notice if they went missing.
Reaching his bedroom, he found an old, ripped sheet at the back of the wardrobe and managed to make a scruffy makeshift sling for his arm. Having done that, Harry went to his trunk and got out some owl treats to give to Hedwig, who was looking at him from her cage with a worried expression.
"I'm ok." He lied to her.
"Boy! Come and wash the dishes." Uncle Vernon bellowed from downstairs, and Harry put down his book on Transfiguration that he had been trying and failing to read.
Hurrying downstairs, he went to the thankfully empty kitchen, and started washing up. He finally finished and went back to his room. Lying down on his bed, staring at the ceiling, he wished he had some more chores to do. If he had chores to do, he was too busy to think. Now he had nothing to do, so all he could do was think.
It was entirely his fault that Sirius, Cedric and his parents were all dead. If he had never been born, they would all be alive. His parents had died protecting him; Cedric had died just because he was near him. Sirius had died for so many reasons. If Harry had tried harder to learn occlumency, if Harry had not been stupid enough to fall for Voldemort's trap, then he would still be alive. Anyone who came near him ended up hurt. Umbridge had been right about one thing last year, he did deserve to be punished.
That didn't stop the dread as he heard uncle Vernon's footsteps coming up the stairs. As he entered the room, his uncle had a smirk on his face that would have made Malfoy proud. He grabbed Harry by the neck, throwing him onto the ground. "What's that?" he spat, ripping off Harry's sling and causing Harry to almost cry out in pain.
Then his uncle started his normal tirade of physical and emotional abuse. Harry only just managed to keep silent during this. Finally, as Harry was almost unconscious, Vernon left the room.
However, he returned a few minutes later, and, to Harry's horror, took off his trousers and boxers, before doing the same to Harry. He was too weak to fight him off as Vernon threw him back on the bed on his stomach. He tried to block everything out as his uncle climbed on top and plunged into him. Harry started whimpering in pain as Vernon moaned in pleasure. 'Please let this all end, let me die.' Harry thought, and Vernon came inside of him, before putting on his boxers and trousers, and walking out of the room as if nothing had happened.
Harry felt so dirty and unclean. He was so weak that he was unable to fight off a stupid muggle. How was he expected to defeat Voldemort?
This became the normal routine. During the day Harry would do chores, in the evening, his uncle would rape him, afterwards he would sneak out to the park to be alone, away from his relatives. Then when he fell asleep, he would dream of Sirius falling through the veil, blaming Harry for his death. He would change to Cedric, then his mum, and finally his dad, all blaming him.
That always, without fail, caused him to wake up screaming, so his uncle would come into his room and beat him some more.
Every three days, Vernon stood over him as he wrote to the Order, telling them that he was fine, and the Dursleys were treating him great. In return, he was given two slices of stale bread, and half a plastic cup of water.
Finally the day came when he found himself in a pool of his own blood and both his arms were broken. He managed to get to the desk and somehow wrote two words on a scrap of parchment that had been on the desk. He got blood all over the parchment, but he didn't care anymore.
Hedwig picked up the parchment in her beak. "Take it to Dumbledore." Harry croaked when Hedwig took off.
As Hedwig soared out of the window, Harry collapsed back on the ground.
A/N: Well, here is the first chapter of my newest story. I need a beta, so anyone interested, mail me. Everyone, tell me what you think of it, and what I can do better. I reply to all reviews as well. Oh, and just to let you know, this chapter was inspired by the Evanescence song, "Bring me to life."