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Was this normal? To hurt all the time. Harry didn't think it was. He never sees anyone else barley containing a wince when someone's shoulder brushes past their own. He never sees anyone shifting in their seats often in class when the backrest presses wrong. They must just be better at hiding it. Everyone must hide their pain because no one talks about it. no one says anything so he won't either.
His shoulder was dislocated again. Dislocation, an easy word. He found it in an old first aid manual. Tucked away in a drawer, the corners peeling and blunt, the far edges of the pages yellowing. He wonders how it ended up forgotten. It means something is not in its intended place. Is he supposed to be here? Harry knows he shouldn't but sometimes he resonates with that word. He knows all too well how out of places he is. He knows no one else on Privet Drive can fix chipped plates with a simple brush of a finger and a fear of the punishment that chip will bring him. He felt bad for it. He knows any sane person would toss it in a bin, after all they had roughly a dozen identical ones in the cupboard, but it was the only one to chip. He couldn't fault it for breaking under stress. It was such a small piece but it made it different, that missing piece made it broken. Then no one could use it. He felt bad.
He hurts, but it's okay because everyone else hurts too. They are just better at hiding it. They must be hiding it because that boy at the grocery store didn't jerk away when the supposedly gentle older woman cashing them out handed him a sticker with a smile holding no pain. No, he held his hand out excitedly to snatch the colorful sticker and slap it onto his shirt, a grin so wide you would think his aunt and uncle just announced loudly that they were traveling out of town for a few days.
It smells like vomit in here.
He needs to get his shoulder back into place before falls asleep.
He's so tired. Maybe he walked around too much today.
When did he eat last?
Remembering the lock on the other side of the door to his cupboard weighs heavily on his mind. He hopes morning will be soon. He hurts less when he unlocks it when the sun is up.
The bruises on his legs have started fading. It's too bad purple and yellow spread across his ribcage. Bruising, another word he found in that first aid manual. Blood vessels broke due to blunt force and the blood gathers in one concentrated spot under the skin. He knows due to a diagram that at least a few of them are broken on each side. The manual says that a temporary wrap would help stabilize them until he could get medical attention. That part confused him, he was the medical attention. The book didn't offer a long term solution to stabilize his ribs so he compromised with wrapping one of Dudley's old striped polo shirts around them.
He's missing another finger nail, that would be the third one. He is no longer curious about what people use pliers for.
It's hot in here.
He's having a hard time finding the crack under the door he uses for telling time, his eyes are really blurry for some reason. Where did his glasses go?
The bridge of his nose hurts. It's crooked. The book taught him that it's probably broken and needs to be reset so it can heal properly. Can broken things heal?
A drop of sweat falls in his eye and he winces at the sting. Why was he sweating so much? His hand feels wet, but he doesn't have any water in here. Why is the water on his hand red? If he could see right now the splintered, dusty floor boards would be soaked through with red.
Harry thought the color of blood was fascinating, it comes from the protein in hemoglobin that carries oxygen and when the oxygen reacts with iron in the blood it oxidizes and becomes red. His shirt is covered in red.
He keeps coughing up red, not that he noticed, his hands were already covered in it.
His ribcage protested as he started wheezing short and fast breaths, which was weird because he wasn't running.
His head is lulling to the side and rests on the wall behind him. Rainbows dance across the edges of his vision yet everything is still covered in red. Where'd all this blood come from?