When Everything Is Wrong (AU Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 1 - Today I Can't Remember

It all happened so quickly. Louis could barely remember the last few weeks, and everything was a massive blur inside his head. All he knew was that somehow he’d managed to land himself in prison within his first month of living in Los Angeles.

He hadn’t even done anything, or at least he couldn’t remember doing anything. Louis knew that he had to have done something terrible to find himself in a cell, but he honestly couldn’t remember anything out of line, other than the fact that he also couldn’t remember the last five days.

Sitting there in the dark and cold, Louis pondered his situation. He couldn’t exactly walk up and ask the guards what he’d done, because that would make him seem even guiltier. He also didn’t have anyone to contact to help him because he hadn’t been in the city long enough.

Wait a second… what was that guy’s name? That paranoid man that he’d met his first day out in the town had come around a few more times, he was sure of it. The two had never talked about anything particularly personal, but he was the only option Louis had.

One of the guards outside his cell was carrying a walkie-talkie. Louis found himself wishing he could take that and radio himself out of confinement, but he knew nobody would believe he hadn’t done anything if he couldn’t tell them what he had been doing instead.

Glancing around, the boy noticed for the first time that he wasn’t alone. There were a few men who were quite large in structure sitting along the far wall, and a boy who looked younger than Louis himself curled up in one of the corners. A few young-looking men were walking around, trying to get some exercise in this small place.

He’d only been conscious for a short while when there came a clinking and jangling sound, like keys being turned in a lock. His body excitedly turned to the door of the cell as a burly man stepped in, looking around and gesturing for him to come closer. Louis stood and brushed off his rear end before following after the guard, reaching a room with a woman behind a desk whose back was turned to him.

“Thank you, Paul, you can return to your duties,” the woman spoke, spinning around. “Please, take a seat.”

She wasn’t the youngest woman, but she wasn’t old either. Her face was etched with wisdom and cleverness, and Louis knew this woman meant business. He quickly composed his face, slowly gliding to the chair opposite her.

“Why am I here?” he said nervously.

The woman frowned. “You can’t seriously be telling me you don’t know what you did.” Louis nodded, ducking his head shortly after to avoid her humiliating gaze. “You were found at the scene of a murder, a used knife in one of your hands. You were passed out and the body was a few yards away, so we had you tested and it turned out you were under the influence of drugs. It was assumed that you had killed the woman under the premise of being high, so you were taken down to the cells, where I would assume you just awoke,” she explained curtly.

“But I would never kill somebody!” Louis shouted, heart beating fast.

“And how exactly can you prove that?” One of her eyebrows rose as Louis realized he had no proof for himself without any memories of that day. “Exactly, and that’s why you’re seeing me. Hello, Mr. Louis William Tomlinson. My name is Eleanor Calder, and I’m the one assigned to help you find a lawyer that fits your case and situation.”

She stuck her hand across the smooth surface of the desk, and Louis had no choice but to accept her handshake. He found it slightly creepy that she stated his full name, but who was he to object when she was actually trying to help him? He kept his mouth shut.

“Do you know have any history of mental illness?” Louis shook his head.

“Family trouble? Relationship trouble? Substance abuse? Any disorders involving anger or violence?” Again, he gave a negative response.

The woman looked perplexed. “Any criminal history? We can’t seem to find records here.”

The boy sighed. “That would probably be because I just moved here, Eleanor. And no, I’m not a criminal.”

She had been taking notes on each of his responses, checking boxes on her paper and scribbling out things on different lines. Louis didn’t know what it meant, but he hoped it was something in his favor. He hadn’t been to prison before so he had no clue what was going on.

“Well, it would seem from what you’ve just told me that it is likely that you are indeed innocent, so it may take me a bit to find an adequate lawyer. I wouldn’t want you to be punished, Louis, if you were just framed. I tell you, this place does terrible things to the best of people,” she shook her head sadly. “I’ll call Paul back up here so you can rest in the cell again. You could always try talking to the other boys; some of them are nice.”

He was escorted down into the cold once more, groaning in a frustrated manner when he plopped down in the same position he’d woken in earlier. One of the boys in the center of the cell glanced over at the sound he made, and began to make his way to Louis.

“Zayn,” he said simply as he nodded.

“Louis,” the new boy whispered, hoping this boy was one of the nice and innocent ones and not a pedophile.

“So, what’d you do to end up in here, man?” he asked tiredly.

“I, erm, this is going to sound weird, but I apparently murdered someone while on drugs, even though I’ve never heard of the drugs I was on before and I’m in no way a violent person. And I can’t remember anything that happened to me in the last five days.”

Zayn smiled sadly. “You do know that even if you’re innocent, it takes a lot to get out of a murder charge. That’s a tough one, and lost memory cases are just the worst.” He sounded as if he was talking from experience.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to you, and how long have you been here?” Louis questioned.

“It’s been close to two years, now,” Zayn grimaced. “Two years ago next week, my girlfriend was killed. It was a lot like yours, where the killer framed me. I was asleep one night, thinking about how I was going to propose to her the next day, and I wake up and I’m on the floor covered in her blood and the cops are standing over me shaking their heads. Nobody ever believed that it wasn’t me who did it,” he muttered.

“I tell you what, Zayn. If I’m able to get out of this place, I promise I’ll come back for you.”

The boy’s expression morphed into one of shock. “Are you serious right now? You’re kidding, right? God, why’d I have to get my hopes up? Nobody cares for the boy who killed his girlfriend,” he shuddered.

Louis wrapped an arm around the thinner boy’s frame, pulling him into his side. “I meant it, and I plan to stay true to my promise.” Zayn grinned up at him.

“Thanks.”

The two boys stayed up a bit longer, discussing Zayn. Louis wanted to know how life in prison was, and Zayn was all too eager to share, because Louis was the first person he’d had a real talk with in two years. They talked about prison life, Zayn’s girlfriend, how life was before prison, what Zayn wanted to do if he ever got out, and how terrible it was to be framed for a crime. They talked about anything and everything, trying to waste their time away in the cell.

Louis couldn’t believe that the first real friend he’d had in Los Angeles was one he had made while in prison. It was quite hilarious, come to think of it, and maybe it was a sign. Maybe this was meant to happen, and something good would be waiting for him at the end. Maybe this wasn’t all for nothing. His thoughts gave him hope, something he desperately needed.

It was what the boys assumed to be early the next morning that Louis was puled from the cell again, but not before promising Zayn that he’d be back soon. A different guard was his escort, but he was again taken to Eleanor’s office.

“Hello again, Louis,” she smiled. “I’ve got some news for you.”

“What is it?” he asked eagerly.

“I may have found someone willing to take on your case. He should arrive any day to start working with you. On the bright side, you can also make your one phone call now, if you’d like.”

Louis picked up the phone hesitantly, dialing the number he’d remembered as Max’s.

Written by in_L_O_V_E