A/N: hey everyone, guess what time of year it is? Summer! That means I'm starting a new fic….probably one I'll never finish. No I'm kidding, I've gotten better about finishing them—I hope. So here's the latest offering, have fun with it.

Augh, not that way!

Jez, you kinky perverts. .

Summary: Harry's not as sane as everyone thinks—in fact he's pretty close to the edge. And when something horrible happens, it finally pushes him over the edge. All the sudden the boy who lived needs somebody to save him. AU, set after OTP.

Warnings: I don't think Harry's crazy enough. He grows up with abusive relatives and to be honest he's not too crazy. He has friends, he dates, he's got moral standards, seems pretty well adjusted to me. So I kind of took Harry's personality flaws and um…poked them. So we have: insanity, character death, drug use, rape, child abuse, slash, het, and my favorite part, medication.

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J.K., I'm just borrowing them for fun .

Rock a bye baby on the tree top

The only sounds to break the silence are harsh, angry gasps.

The room was dark, he'd turned the lights off before he left, when he came back there was no point in turning them on. The teen curled on the bed was clutching his head in his hands, trying to keep from fainting. The world was spinning and no matter how hard he breathed he couldn't fill his lungs. So he kept panting and gasping and his head spun faster and faster, like a broken merry-go-round.

There's something wet on his cheek.

A chiding voice in the back of his head tells him that his clothes are filthy and the bed sheets are clean. It's telling him to take a bath and go to bed.

"Like a bath is gonna make it all better," Harry tried to say, the words escaped his throat as a breathy pant. The silence was driving him crazy, but his head was pounding. Any noise would make it pound worse. He didn't want to be alone in the dark. But the light would only remind him how disgusting he looked. His own bedroom was a prison all the sudden and yet there was no where else to go. This prison was all he had.

Bed, he was in bed.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. There was a flash of lightening outside, illuminating the room.

There was a shape looming over his bed. Harry's eyes widened. The lightening faded and it was gone. The teen shrieked and hurled himself out of bed. He didn't care where he was, he just had to get away. He crawled until he hit the wall, and then he scratched at it like a trapped cat.

Outside thunder split the sky, it sounded like floorboards. It sounded like the floorboard outside the cupboard under the stairs. It creaked whenever his uncle was outside the door. Harry screamed again, clawing the wall.

Rain poured down his window in a steady stream. "rain, rain go away." Harry sung quietly, "come again another day." He was shaking and his cheeks were all wet. Wet…tears? The tears came after, always after.

Harry's gaps became more frantic, he couldn't breath. He shoved himself in the wall, gasping and whispering quiet protests. There was a dull roar growing in his hears. All he could hear was the blood pounding frantically in his skull. It was looking for a way out.

Lightening struck again, brighter this time. More shadows were clinging to the air around Harry, there was a whole gang of them all the sudden. They had him surrounded, pressed like a rat against a dirty brick wall next to a dumpster. Harry swung his arms wildly and cried out.

He hit his nightstand, not the dumpster. There was no dumpster—he was in his room. The wall at his back wasn't brick at all. The teen was shaking now, a fine tremble started at the base of his spin and crept through his nerves.

"No, no, no, no!" Harry whispered, clutching his skull. Thunder screamed outside, there were floorboards creaking, they were getting louder. He was getting closer. The cupboard door opened with a squeak.

But he wasn't in the cupboard anymore…was he?

The teen crawled over to his bed and tugged at the sheets. No, he was in a room with a bed and a window. He looked back at the window. The rain was coming down harder, something wet was dripping onto the collar of his shirt. Harry pulled viciously at the sheets and his hands slipped. The teen fell onto the floor, his head thumped against the ground and the world swam.

Hands were touching him, fingers running down his spine. Filthy, grimy hands pinned Harry's wrists above his head, those hands always encompassed both of Harry's tiny ones. They were filthy, all that dirt was rubbing onto Harry. He was filthy.

Harry howled and curled onto his side, swatting off invisible hands and cursing at people who weren't there. He was alone on the floor, not in the cot under the stairs.

The hands were still there, touching him, fisting his hair, slapping his face.

He couldn't remember where he was again. Harry couldn't get up, his head was so heavy, there was so much blood. The teen rolled onto his back again, he was under the window. Lightening light up the room, he could see faces above his, a familiar one and ones that had been obscured by the darkness. Heavy, fat hands dug into his flesh again and again and again.

Harry opened his mouth to scream but his throat was too raw, all that slithered from his throat was a low, keening wail.

When the wind blows the cradle will rock

The loud rumble of thunder made him thrash. He writhed wildly across the floor, fighting and waving an imaginary wand, trying to light it up, trying to keep the monsters away. As the sound faded so did his fighting, his body was drained and the teen lay boneless on the floor, weeping and trying to scream.

He looked up and through the rain he saw a star.

"Sirius?" He whispered. "No," a wicked smile twisted Harry's features, "he's dead. Dead, dead, dead, everyone's dead. And if they're not," the teen panted, "then they're gonna soon. Everybody's gonna die."

Outside the rain beat harder against his window.

"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down," He sung in a hoarse voice.

There was too much blond. The lightening flashed even brighter and a crack of thunder sent Harry sprawling to one side. All he could hear was the blood pounding on his skull. Something inside his head was breaking. The rain was pattering violently at his window.

Harry stumbled into his feet and threw himself at his door. He fumbled with the handle, but twisted it open and fell into the hall way. The shadows of raindrops sliding down the windows played on the wall. Lightening played across his skin. The teen fell onto the bathroom door, and slid to his knees, hands wrapped firmly around the doorknob. Something was still breaking inside his head, since when was he so breakable? Harry opened the door and crawled into the bathroom.

He shut the door, almost quietly, and locked it. Using the sink counter he pulled himself to his feet. Slumped against the marble he clicked on the light. The fluorescent glow didn't help. He could still feel hands and that roar in his ears wasn't any quieter. He was a mess. His lip was split and there was a nasty bruise developing on one cheek. Both eyes were ringed with more bruises. His shirt was ripped and bloody. His jeans…well he couldn't see much of them in the mirror and he didn't look down.

The teen fumbled through the medicine cabinet until he found his uncles spare razors, all tied together with a piece of string. Harry dangled them in front of his eyes, watching the light play off the metal as another peel of thunder shook him. Finally he dropped to his knees, the razors limp in one hand.

"Somebody kill me," He moaned, "somebody kill me."

When the bough breaks the cradle will fall

He dropped the razors and stood up. He walked into the hallway and with his head hung low he trotted down the stairs to the front door. The teen didn't bother with a coat, he just stepped into the rain. Well, step was too mild a word. He tumbled from the front door and managed to keep from falling.

The rain was cold and it stung where it touched his skin.

His head was so heavy all the sudden. There was something new in it, memories of things he hadn't remembered until whatever was in his head broke. He still couldn't breath, but at least now he could hear. That roaring sound in his ears was gone and his skull didn't hurt so bad anymore.

He ran.

He ran to the park at the end of private drive.

Funny, there was someone else out here too. It was a man wearing a heavy, dark jacket. Harry smiled, it was god. The teen ran to the man. Harry watched as the man turned to face him, he was probably wondering what that splashing sound was.

Harry tumbled into the man and held him like he was the last solid thing in the world.

"Will you kill me?" the teen whispered, he looked into the man's face with a huge grin on his face. Naked adoration shone from Harry's eyes, he looked so happy that he almost glowed. His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and life, so much life yet unlived.

"Got any money?"

Harry shook his head.

"Maybe we can find something else you can pay with."

The teen's grin widened and he buried his face in the man's shoulder, "sure." And then Harry started to shake as if he were sobbing. The man just slung an arm around Harry's shoulders and led him away. Poor kid, he thought, but hey, business is business.

"Can you make it stop?" Harry whispered.

"Make what stop?"

"The pain…"

"Oh sure, I got lots of stuff for that."

Harry wasn't sure he was crying, in the rain he couldn't tell. Maybe that was for the best.

And down will come baby, cradle and all…
And down will come baby, cradle and all.

A/N: in a totally unrelated side note does anyone else find it creepy that my mom sung me that song when I couldn't sleep as a kid? Perchance I should go bring that up with her. Anywho, so there's the start to a disturbing new story, who's in?