Thread: Runaway
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Old February 5th, 2007, 3:41 am
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witchsmart  Female.gif witchsmart is offline
Sixth Year
Join Date: 19th October 2006
Location: The Library
Age: 28
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Re: Runaway

Chapter Twelve

Sirius did not know how long he stayed in that shack. Many days had passed, it could have even been weeks, he did not know. Time passed by in a blur, and Sirius moved slowly from one torturous day to the next.

When old Steve placed another disgusting piece of meat in front of him Sirius did not object. Reduced to little more than skin and bones, Sirius ate the entire chunk of meat within seconds, as he had done so many other times. The meat was extremely rotten, and it was making him sick. If he kept going on like this, he would die.

Meanwhile old Steve, oblivious to Sirius’ pain, was delighted with his new dog. There was nothing he enjoyed more than commanding Sirius to do whatever he wanted him to do. And Sirius obeyed instantly, afraid that the man would hurt him if he didn’t. Sirius prayed that old Steve wouldn’t tire of him, or else he was dead for sure. But as the days continued to pass by, slowly and painfully, Sirius started to wish for the day when old Steve would tire of him, so that it could all end.

Then there came that fateful day. The morning began as usual. Old Steve woke up, took a long drink from one of the dozens of bottles scattered throughout the room, then staggered over to Sirius.

He reached for the sack where he kept the “treats” that he gave to Sirius if he did what he was told.

“Get up Blackie!” he said.

Sirius tried to obey, he really did. But after spending too much time trapped in the shack, eating nothing but rotten meat chunks, Sirius was very weak. He struggled to get to his feet, and wobbled there for a few seconds. But then his legs gave out and he collapsed onto the floor.

“Old Steve said get up Blackie!”

But no matter how hard he tried, Sirius couldn’t stand.


Enraged, old Steve threw his half-empty bottle at Sirius. This time his aim was true. He hit Sirius straight on, who yelped in pain as the glass shattered against his weakened body. Now dripping with beer, Sirius tried again to stand. But he still couldn’t.


The actions that old Steve took then might not have been as severe if only there had been more beer in the house. But the man hadn’t gone into town for weeks and his supply had run lower than he thought. He soon discovered, as he searched frantically for a drink to calm him down, that the bottle he threw at Sirius had been the last one with any liquid in it. As it was, there was no beer, and old Steve had always been one to exaggerate the situation. For him, Sirius’ mere failure at standing up was intolerable, unacceptable.

After searching every single bottle in the house and not finding even a single drop of beer, old Steve became even angrier. His face was beet red, and the veins stood out strongly in his neck. Sirius knew that this was the end for him.

Screaming with rage, old Steve chucked every bottle that he could lay his filthy hands on at Sirius. Half of them missed, instead soaring straight out the window, or crashing against the walls. A couple of them shattered into a million pieces upon contact with the floor.

But a few of them found their way to Sirius. He closed his eyes in pain as the glass exploded upon him. He tried to close everything out the pain, and the continuous cries of “BAD DOG! BAD DOG!” He was going to die there, and no one would ever know.

Just as he felt that he couldn’t go on any longer, one of the bottles crashed into the wall directly above the leash that bound Sirius to the wall. Normally, this wouldn’t have done a thing. But after spending day after day of tugging, pulling, and chewing on the rope that restrained him, Sirius had gotten to the point where there were only a few thin strands of rope left. All it needed was one last bite.

That bite came as one particularly large piece of glass fell down directly onto the rope. The sharp edge of the glass cut through the last few remaining strands, splitting the rope in two. Sirius was free!

But could he still escape? Sirius decided then and there that he could not, would not die. Not there, in that filthy corner, alone and hurt with a psychotic, drunken muggle. Mustering every ounce of strength that he had left in his body, Sirius hauled himself to his weakened paws, and bolted for the hole in the wall that served as a window.

Blood was pounding in his ears, he couldn’t hear anything else. Not even old Steve’s cry of rage and he jumped . . . and flew out of the window.

But Sirius didn’t stop, he didn’t even slow down as he snatched up his dusty suitcase, and ran.

“Come back Blackie! COME BACK!” bellowed old Steve. But Sirius was long gone, running as hard as he could to get as far away as possible from that man, that devil.

He didn’t stop running, not even when old Steve’s cries had faded away into the distance. Even though each step that he took caused him great pain, he didn’t stop.

So when James opened his front door to find the sweaty body of a badly injured black dog lying on his porch next to a beat up suitcase, he couldn’t have been more shocked.

I've been picturing that chapter for a while, I'm so glad that I was finally able to get it out! Please leave feedback!


Twins on a Train
Working With the Weasleys
No Chance

Proud member of OFINOA (Obsessed Fans In Need Of Avatar)

Last edited by witchsmart; February 5th, 2007 at 9:29 pm.
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