(Harry looks like he's ready to kill^ XD)
It takes death to open the chambers of guilt and regret. It takes confinement of oneself to beg for the free will once given.
Harry's POV
I stir awake,
But waking up doesn't seem right, because that implies sleeping. I couldn't sleep; sleep was the last thing on my mind at the moment. I lift my head up from the hard, gritty worn wood floor. I close my eyes hoping this is all a bad dream, or just a simple nightmare that would slowly vanish when I open my eyes. My right cheek was sore, probably painted with marks and dirt from the ground. I crawl my pained and worn out body towards the oddly stained bed, I grip the sides hauling myself onto it creating small high pitch creaks.
I cover my body with the thin fabric; I'm guessing these people call a blanket.
This isn't home, tears picked my eyes
This isn't a hotel, my vision starts to blur
This isn't the place I want to die in, I shut my eyes
This isn't where I belong or is it? I refuse to let a tear fall
Like my father would say, crying is for the weak, shows people you are vulnerable and they would use that as an advantage against you. People want to point out your flaws to use them as perfect weapons against you and crying is one of the top ways. Your tears release sorrow, they release pain. They let all the stress out, that's what they all say. But crying, is really a sign of weakness, no tear shall fall.
My body suddenly gets a chill, remembering the words of my father, word my word brings back memories. Some good some bad, but I couldn't help but miss them.
"A-are you okay?" A soft voice emerges from the darkness. I squint my eyes trying to make out the small figure in the corner across from me. "Who are you..?" I sit up from the bed, the loud squeaks muffled his answer ever so lightly.
"Stanley" a sniffle, echoed around the small chamber. I pull one foot over, my bare feet coming in contact with the icy concrete floor. I grope around the wall, hoping for some source of light, but to no avail.
"I-I'm uhh" I gently scratch my head, my main priority was to find the boy behind the voice. "I'm Harry" my voice was hoarse, and my throat was itchy. The dust clouding this room was not good for neither of our lungs. But where are we?
"How did we get here?" I ask as I tug on the shackles keeping the bed in place.
"You just got here. I've been here for what seems like a couple of days now." I didn't know what to say, I have no idea what is happening outside these walls, nor can I find away to dig through Stanley's head.
"Why are we here?" I ask holding my head in my hands, waiting for an answer from the little boy to only receive a cold chill up my spine.
A loud bell erupted, echoing in the small room. The door automatically opened as shuffles of feet and the yelling of barbaric men pounded against my ear drums. My body feels completely numb, weighted down, like piles of boulders were smothering my chest. My breathing cuts short, lack of oxygen in my lungs like a plastic bag is over my face. My back feels broken, as if there were spikes poking and prodding my back as I sink down to them. That's when I notice I'm lying in my deathbed.
We sat here in silence, I could not see him through the thick cloak of darkness concealing us from one another. The small mutters from the other side of the door sparked up my attention as a pair of blue eyes looked mindlessly through the yellow glass. The harsh screeching noise from the cracking open alerted me.
Attempting to shuffle back to my feet as my attention diverts to everywhere in the room. The light from the little opening gave me a better view of the room yet Stanley was still lurking in the dark.
"Come on kid" the man demands, assuming he was talking about Stanley but the look he was giving me told me it wasn't so. Everything in my head was turning into questions, my answers has just opened more questions for me. Like everything is a question game, but in this everyone loses because not everything could be answered, untied decisions, unanswered questions would never diminish, into the thin, filthy air.
"You have to get up." He urges, but I can't find the strength to move.
"The warden would like to see you, now" He tugs on my forearm which I quickly snap it away from his soft grip.
He looked at me with sympathy, maybe pity probably because of the way I look. I can practically feel the bags under my eyes resting on my rosy cheeks. But what most likely hit him stronger might have been the depressed tension that I am carrying over my shoulders. I slowly walk towards the lighting of the open door. Not before looking back, to finally see the ruffled brown hair and pasty skin from the little boy, Stanley.
"No! No! No!" An older woman was squirming in the guards arm as he took her to some sort of room. Her eyes wandered looking from some sort of help, and for a brief second her eyes met mine. Her dark brown hair, slightly frizzy was flying everywhere when she just started shaking her head wildly. "NOOOO" she broke down falling to the floor, men dressed in white and some guards came to assist. I try to crane my neck to try and see what was going to happen to the poor woman. But I was too far down the hall to even catch a glimpse of brown frizzy hair.
We walked down a few hallways, up a few stairs until we reached a wooden door. The guard let out a huff before turning the doorknob.
"Sister," he says in a hush voice, disrupting the warden from her book.
"What have I told you, you must knock before you enter" She folds her arms as she approached us with accusing eyes.
"I'm sorry Sis-"
"Save it" she interrupted "Ok now let's quickly get this over with, sit down" She instructs scanning my body before turning around.
I walk over to the wooden chair and sat down, looking down at the ground. The small scrape marks and layers of dirt on the wooden floor caught my attention for some odd reason; it made me forget about what's going around me. The longer I stared, the more it seems like the marks were moving. The slightly greying floor was replaced by solid black tips of the warden's flats. She cleared her throat wanting my attention.
I slightly raise my head up, to notice that it wasn't just me, the warden, and the guard there was another man staring at me with a bald head, scrawny but lean built figure, holding a weird tool as a small smirk was placed on his face, and two others, more on the burly side looking at me impatiently. The warden grabbed the upper part of my little jump suit and pulled it down.
"Whoa. What are you doing?" I try to grab the jumper and pull it back up, but for the two burly men restraining my actions.
"Relax" the scrawny man orders. "What's going on?" I yell trying to pull away from the men.
"Hold still" One of them grunt.
The scrawny man started to approach me with what looks like some sort of needle, and lightly wiped my chest with some sort of cloth, before piercing my skin. Fear and pain stirred around in my gut, as the needle was pushed through my skin and started carving something.
"I'll read you his code as you print it on him" The warden said, fondling a little piece of paper between her fingers.
"H"
So he carved an H, I let out a scream, to the pain that wasn't now just on my throbbing skin, but it was also coursing through my veins.
"S"
I bite my lip, concealing any noises that would escape my mouth.
"64"
The ache of the needle in my chest was now gone, and was replaced with an unbearable itch.
"95"
I released my lip, from the clutches of my teeth. But the bitter metallic taste was still on the tip of my tongue.
"6"
She ended, and I was silent. I felt different, a way I can't explain.
---
So if you haven't noticed this is a lot similar to a chapter written from my story Disasterology hope you enjoy it either way. There's a lot to come just be patient with me, school is something else. Also don't be afraid to talk to me or ask me to read your books/recommend any!
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