Louis’ POV
I was speechless. I couldn’t defend myself, or Harry. What could be said to fix this? That’s right, nothing! I shouldn’t have invited Harry over. I knew something was going to go wrong. It always does.
“Louis. What in the hell were you doing with that fag?” How would he react if I told him I was “a fag” too?
“Hanging out.” Not a lie. We really were hanging out.
“We don’t hang out like that. I don’t hang out with my friends like that.” He has a valid point.
“You just walked in at the wrong time.” He really did.
“Explain.”
“We were wrestling and then I fell onto him because that’s how wrestling works.” I shrugged and started to walk into the kitchen. The blood was stopped from flowing into my hand by Zayn’s hand wrapped tightly around my wrist. Fuck. “Zayn. Let me go.”
“No, Queer.”
“I’m not a fucking queer!”
“You’re right. You’re fucking a queer.” He sneered, causing me to punch him in the face. “You little bitch!”
“How fucking high are you, Zayn? Don’t ever fucking touch me. Get the hell out of my house. Now!” I shoved him out the door, but not before he punched me on the left side of my face. I dropped to the ground and started shaking. I don’t do well with people touching me like that, especially when they’re under an influence. Too many memories..
Flashback
“Louis you cunt! Get over here and fight like a man!” Tears were running down my face as I went to face my father. His eyes, even in the dark, gave it all away. He had been drinking. A lot. I stood there, waiting for the blow that was sure to come. As expected, it did. His hideous class ring slammed into my left eyebrow, causing blood to stream down my face. I remained motionless and let him use me as a punching bag, knowing that in 24 hours, he’ll have no idea what happened. He’ll think I did this in soccer, and I let him think that. No point in causing more shit. Another couple of punches here and there and a swift quick to my shin, and he’s gone. Off to the next bar, not to be seen for a few days. A few peaceful days.
When he leaves, I go into my room and curl up in a ball. Grabbing my blade and lift up my shirt, revealing hundreds of scars and wounds. I decide on my right hip, and begin to drag the heavenly piece of metal across my skin. The painful feeling of flesh ripping runs through my body, causing me to smile and cry at the same time.
I shudder at the thought, and stand up to go to the bathroom where I keep my blades, but something stops me. It’s a pair of green eyes peering down at me with a great amount of hurt. I blink, and it’s gone. He’s gone. Harry. Those were his eyes. I need to make sure Zayn didn’t touch him. He picks up on the first ring.
“Louis! Are you okay? Did he hurt you? I am so sorry for al-“
“Harry, shh, I’m alright. Nothing too bad, and it’s not your fault. I promise. Did he hurt you?”
“No, he never followed me. Louis, do you want to come over? Or me there?” His voice was asking me, but I know that he needs me.
“I’ll be over in a second. Alright?”
“Okayy, I’ll be here.”
I rushed to turn off lights and lock everything, grabbing my key so that only I could get in. With all that done, I literally ran over to his house. I knocked and was nearly attacked by Harry when he opened the door. He reached over me to shut the door-and lock it- before giving me a bone-crushing hug. He rubbed my back and arms, as if trying to comprehend that I was, in fact, fine. Well, other than a hurt face. And heart. And wrist. Oh.
