Harrison picked up the emerald green dagger from his night stand, it was clear cut, and probably his favorite owned item. The blade was fresh, sharp and clean with no hesitation Harrison unbuttons his shirt and tosses it onto his bed, he’s alone. He usually was, he does not mind. He loves the shadows, he takes a sighing breath and digs the tip of the blade into his arm, he does not cringe, or cry, the prickle is nothing to his ivory toned skin, he slides the blade’s edge over his arm, deep dark cuts that cover him and his lap in blood, he fell down against his bed to the floor after the first three self induced stabs. He switches hands and does the last five on his other arm, under his shoulder, it goes through his skin like butter, and in no time a waterfall of red is trickling down his right arm. He can barely life his hands and his breathing is heavy, he tripled anything she’d done and he still had burning to do. He waves his wand grabbing it from the floor beside him and his lighter comes to hand.
He drifts off a bit, his head leaning back as he heats the metal. It’s almost red hot, he presses it to the side of his stomach, kicking his foot, biting his lip, he holds it in. His skin grew sensitive with the previous punishments, he smells the burning flesh and closes his eyes, he repeats this nine more times, giving him ten bloody, pussy, raw red and black burns up and down his side. He groans and slowly stands up the blood, staining his arms completely, he wants to put his shirt back on but he can’t grab it, and his hands are too marked in red to grab anything, he puts the dagger back in its hiding spot and sits in the nook of the window, crossing his arms, letting the blood pool in his arms curve as he stares outside. “Fucking Lily”