Renegade-N.H-

Styles

"Louis?" I call when I enter the house. The front door was unlocked, all the cars were gone other than Lou's truck which sat pretty at the end of the driveway. The house is bright from the several windows that line the front of it, each one illuminating the living room and front lobby.

Before wandering upstairs, I check out the kitchen and the back yard, he was in neither. I assumed he was still sleeping upstairs but the idea that he wasn't made me nervous. Even if he had overslept it wouldn't be in his nature not to set an alarm. The large stairs lead to an open landing which separates into two directions, his parents room is on the left, the kids to the right.

I slowly creep down the hallway towards Louis' room, the large door is shut over and it's dark at the end. No windows to shine light like the rest of the house, I roll my palm over the door knob and push the door opening. Listening carefully for anything.

Louis' heavy breathing alerts me instantly that he's not over sleeping, he's very much awake and trying to catch his breath. It's so dark in his room that I can barely tell what is what, my eyes eventually adjust.

When the door comes free of my hand I see him, crouched on the floor his left knee pressed into his stomach and his right foot planted on the ground. He's wearing a navy shirt and a pair of jeans, his dark hair is a mess on his head and his lip is busted wide open. His hands are covered in broken glass from what appears to be the mirror above his dresser. He grips a baseball just in his reach and looks up, when he sees me everything stops.

He says something but instead of words leaving his lips a lump of blood falls to the floor in a steady stream. He coughs the rest out and manages to groan a few words. "Run Lee," he says between long gasps for air.

But I don't run away from him I run to him, dropping to my knees to try to help him off the floor but he pushes me off of him. "Leave, go!" he yells this time making me jump. As we spoke his wounds slowly healed in front of my eyes but it wasn't enough, he was still gushing blood from a huge glass wound on his collarbone.

I put my fingers around the large, sharp piece of glass and place my other hand on his chest. Pulling slowly the chuck pops out with a groan of pain from Louis's lips, his body collapsing on my mine.

"You need to run Lee," he whispers into my ear, blood gushing down his chest and staining my tights and new converse.

"From what, there's nothing--" just as I am about to speak the door creaks to a close and the room fills with a dark chill that I've never felt before. The sense on my arms tingle and my heart beats faster than before causing my breath to become rampant.

"Harley," the voice speaks from the darkest corner of the room. "I've been looking for you."

The deep voice is attached to a tall, broad man as he steps into view the little bits of light that shine through the heavy curtain a chill runs the course of my spine. He's much taller than me, than anyone I've seen in a while and he's built well a loose black button down hanging off his shoulders barely buttoned at all. His skin is printed with black ink and his hair is dark, long and pushed back from his face.

His jawline was strong, he was chewing on something and he was left with two small cuts over the top of his cheek. He rubbed his thumb over the cuts and lick the ball of it with his tongue. "It wasn't much of a fight, too bad though, I always though Tomlinson would try harder."

"Who the hell are you?" I snap at him, standing over my broken Louis in a protective manner I wait for an answer.

"I'm slightly offended they haven't told you," he sneers.

He steps forward slightly his thin black boots clicking against the ground closing the short distance between us. Louis reaches the bat to my fingertips silently, I wrap my fingers around the wood carefully, and tightly. Ready for him.