Each one didn’t even have a seperate pain anymore, it melded into an acute, never-ending note; scratching it’s excruciating talons down from his chest to around his back and down his toes. It came in waves, saturating the air with ear-splitting screams of agony. Every jab just brought a slight pressure and the pain slightly intensified; after awhile it became clear that Harry was going to pass out. His head was lolling to the right, and his eyes were half-way closed in exhaustion; leaking copious amounts of tears. He finally stopped. The bloodied and cooked flesh was covered in circular marks, like a hole-puncher. Drips of crimson ran down and coated his baggy jeans. His uncle stopped and surveyed his work. He nodded and wiped the thin coat of blood off the lighter with Harry’s shirt. He untied his restraints and barked at him, "You will clean up this mess, freak, and don’t think about telling anyone. Got it?" Harry merely whimpered. "GOT IT?!"