A trembling body laid curled up into a ball on the pathetic excuse of a bed in the crammed cupboard under the stairs. Harry was terrified; he tried to pretend that he was at Hogwarts with all of his friends. Hufflepuff house was so different from this. The pain, the fear, the torment. It had been so long since he'd been able to leave his cupboard. He'd been in there the whole summer. Every night he bled, his uncle's voice boomed down his ears, stinging him and making him realise that he was hidden from the world.
The white shirt he was wearing was now red, clinging to his blood and sweat covered frame. Although he was hot, he was shivering. He didn't have anything to stop the bleeding and he felt weak, his body succumbing to the deep wounds all over his tired body. His pale skin was covered almost completely in dark, red blotches. The smell was metallic and attacked Harry's nose. It smelt like murder. Harry could hear the squelching every time he put his hand over one of his cuts. He wish his uncle didn't hurt him. It was the worst thing he could imagine.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by a turning of the key in the door. Harry's breath hitched and a lone tear fell down his cheek. He stayed completely still and quiet. He didn't want to make this worse. His uncles footsteps sounded like thunder, every step sending fear like lightning through Harry's skull. Still, he remained silent.
Although he was scared, Harry felt like all the fear of waiting had ended and now it was time to get it over with. He wanted to go back to Hogwarts so badly and leave this life behind. He heard his uncle muttering under his breath as he walked to the kitchen before he headed back to the cupboard door and unlocked it, wasting no time.
His uncle said nothing. Instead, he leant down and got his knife and without warning, stabbed Harry in the leg. Harry screamed, the pain flooding over his body in waves. He had never been hurt this badly. His leg was squirting blood. His uncle, having had his fun, left with a malicious laugh.
Quickly, Harry sat up and pulled off his shirt, wrapping it around his stab wound. It immediately stuck to his leg, going a deep crimson. He thought about death. He knew he was probably going to die. He slumped down. He couldn't help but cry and whimper as he lay on the old cot mattress his aunt had spared for him when he first arrived. It was saturated with blood now.
It felt like a month passed every day when he lay still in his cupboard. He did nothing but lay still and wait for his uncle to come back and hurt him again. Maybe this was how it was going to be forever. Harry passed out from the pain and blood loss.
Maybe he wasn't the chosen one, after all.