chapter 9(part B)

                                    

                                          
Harrys POV
                          
"Please...."
                          
That voice. That voice, trembling and cracking. Filled with fear and anguish. Resentment and Sorrow. It was practically weeping out of his words. I never wanted him to be like this. Never wanted him to feel so.... broken. I sighed, giving in. Maybe he can forget this all in the morning....
                          
What would he do if I found out? Force to tell me the whole story? Or just push my away even more?
                          
That thought made me.... what, pained? Maybe... I just don't want him to push me away. I don't care if he hates me- which I hope he doesn't- I just don't want him to push me away. As much as I wish that he wouldn't, and actually open up more, its not that I cant make him choose. I just don't know what to do....
                          
Suppressing these thoughts, I walked over to his bed, lifting up the sheets for me and slipping in. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around my waist, relaxing to the... warmth? I don't know.. He sighed blissfully, snuggling closer to me, breathing in my scent. I hesitantly wrap my arms around him securely, as he held on tight to me, as if I was going to go somewhere. I surely wasn't doing that, as from I kind of cant do to his arms, and I don't think that I could leave him alone again...
                          
Why would someone do that to him? To that girl? I don't even know her name... I felt sympathy for the older lad in my arms, snoring slightly. No wonder he shut everyone out. I understand that he did it for reasons, and some forced. But that doesn't mean he had to just not talk to anyone, and just bottle it up. Bottling it up never helps. I had personal experience with that..
                          
I saw the razor at the side of the sink, taunting me. Why razor? Why must you tease me, making me think its the easy way out? Why do you make me feel everything from disgusted with myself, to fear of everyone and every thought that roams in my head, practically yelling at me that everyone will hate you. My family, y um, Gemma, Robin, my friends Andy, and White Eskimo, the bakery. The bakery was like a second family to me, and for them to reject me, throw me out, spit on my calling me names.
                          
Faggot.
                          
Gay
                          
Discrimination against humans.
                          
Disgusting.
                          
Homo.
                          
Fag.
                          
Those words implanted in my brain, playing over and over. I was all those names. A fag. Someone who was just stealing oxygen from other people. A disgusting person and how I needed to go die for being gay. A pesron who wouldnt amount to anythingfor liking men.
                          
I could feel the sudden sting in my eyes, as I stared at myself in the mirror. My curls were out of place, making them look so.....Ugly. Mye eyes were to green. There is nothing aazzing about them. No one likes the color green anyways. Plus I had dark circles under my eyes. I hated them. I hated my pale skin, my dull green eyes. My curly hair, and just, myself. I hatef everything about me. And I waas just a waste of space to the world. Not needed.
                          
I felt something warm on wet on my face, only to notice that I am crying. But im weak anyways. Why not show it?
                          
Weak.
                          
A disgrace.
                          
ugly.
                          
Not loved.
                          
Not needed.
                          
Who would love someone like me? I want anything special. Never have been. I mean, who likes a faggot? No one. Thats who.
                          
I diverted my gaze back to the siver razor, staring at it. I guess I would be doing a favor to people by doing this.