Upon hearing his aunt's voice, Harry dragged himself out of the bed timidly and walked towards the stairs with his head hung low. There was a look of terror frozen in his green eyes as if his soul has reverted to a place where it could never return. Harry looked up to his aunt, his eyes still procurring more tears despite how much they burned. He hung his head down low again and made for the bathroom. He then peeled off his grey sweater and kakhis trousers before dipping himself into the bath with an unintentional tremor. The young lad sat in the tub, motionless, as his sunken eyes finally stopped crying. But the ache in his body and his innocent heart had not gone away. Even a bath couldn't make him forget his uncle's rough hands on him.