Prolouge

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I'm alive and have
thought of a
new story
{strong language, mentions of rape, molestation, self harm, abuse, talks of suicide, and depression.} •Maybe triggering for some
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"Do you ever think you'll tell your mum?" I looked at him, withdrawing the cigarette from my mouth, blowing the smoke out through my nose. I laugh a little; shaking my head. I look at the street in front of us, it was pretty late, but anything was better than being in my house. I look at him and see that he's already looking at me, his emerald eyes staring right into my light blue ones. "Lou I'm serious. You can't keep hiding shit from your mum. It's gonna end up killing you at some point."

I huff, taking another drag from the cancer stick and throwing it on to the sidewalk. "I suppose you're right Harold-" I say sarcastically earning an eye roll from the younger lad. "-But I'd rather not give my mum a heart attack. She's already so busy with the girls that I couldn't put that much more stress on her." I say closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

He groans in annoyance crossing his arms. "Louis you are pretty much the definition of depression mate! All I'm tryin to do is help a good friend out." I take a deep breathe, clenching my fists. I've never been good at holding in my anger, hence why Harry is probably my only friend at this point.

"Harry I'm not going to ever tell my mom, not only because it's not the right time at all, it's embarrassing. So would you leave me the fuck alone about it?" I snap, closing my eyes again and pinching the bridge of my nose. Harry holds his hands up in defense, "Sorry baby boy, I didn't wanna make you all heated."

My head snaps towards him, my teeth gritting "H we've talked about what you shouldn't say to me, and that first word is one of them." I seethe, my eyes becoming watery. "See Lou? This is what I mean! It still affects you, so stop acting like you're all macho and talk to your mom. Maybe she could get you help or some shit."

"Harry please just stop talking to me right now."

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