Whimpering cries were released as he slid the blade across my skin. It hurt just as much as it did the first time, if not more. He did it agonizingly slow, just to increase the pain.
"Please.." I sobbed.
Even if my mother's corpse was still hanging by a rope, I still wanted to leave this room. I failed to get something for my hand earlier, but now I need both my hands aided.
"I didn't lay in bed with you." He mumbled suddenly.
If Harry's body wasn't pressed up against mine, I'd be slumping to the floor right now. I can't touch anything with my hands or pain would shoot through my entire body. Plus his words had some sort of fluttery effect on me..
I simply nodded in response to his statement. Why would he say he did? To frighten me?
I gasped upon witnessing the sharp knife raise to the hem of my top. He wrapped the material around it, wiping the access blood off of it, onto my shirt.
"All clean." He smirked, holding it up for me to see.
"It hurts.." I cried.
"That's the point, isn't it?" He cackled.
I released a shaky sigh, eyes diverting to the carpet below me. My bare feet looked tiny compared to Harry's converse. More tears escaped, noticing the blood drip off my hand and onto the white carpet.
"I'm hungry." I murmured, mainly trying to get my mind off the agony. I looked up to be met with stunning green eyes.
"You're not going to be eating." He snapped.
"Why not?" I whimpered.
"When will you stop talking?" He raised his voice, turning around on his heels. "You're really fucking annoying, in case you couldn't tell."
His sudden angry tone startled me. I slammed my hands against the wooden door behind me, causing a shriek to escape my mouth.
"Ow!" I cried, pressing both of my hands onto my clothed stomach, leaving blood stains in the shape of handprints. I slid down the door until I hit the carpet, curling up into a ball.
"Where is your father?" Harry suddenly asked me.
My eyes widened. "Um.. h-he's at work.."
"Are you sure?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Why do you want to know?"
"Just tell me."
"I thought you didn't like me talking." I frowned.
He turned around. "Oh, look what we have here, a smart ass."
"Sorry." I murmured.
"So where is your father?" He repeated.
I raised my head, watery eyes now on him, and a slight pout on my lips.
"He's in heaven."
"Really?" With his tone, I had a feeling he already knew, which scared me. "Not hell?"
I gasped. "How dare you!"
"How dare I what?" He taunted.
"He was a wonderful man!" I sobbed, pointing a shaking finger at him. "You have no right to say that about him!"
"Oh really?" He smirked, before cupping his hands around his mouth and aiming his head at the ground. "Hey-"
"No!!" I cried. This was beyond insulting. He knows nothing of my father.
I grabbed the door handle, ignoring the stinging in my hand, and ripped it open. I stumbled out of the room, running down the hallway once again. It smelled horrible, it didn't smell like this in my room because my door was closed.