Impulse

Chapter Forty-Two

Upon examination of himself with jittery fingers and unstable mental capacity, Louis discoveredthat he was untainted except for a lack of shoes. He curled his toes on the hard floor and scannedthe darkness one more time at a three-sixty degree vantage point. He spots something a foot or twoaway that's blazing red but when he looks again, it's gone.Fear begins to replace the numbness of his nerves. Dread overwhelms his ability to think,smothering his impulses of a steady survival instinct. He can only dig his nails into his arms andjump at every slight sound that makes his ears prick.

 Slowly like the race of his sweat down the side of his face, memories of what happened creep backinto his enabled brain. He remembers finishing the shopping and sending Harry a message to sayhe's coming home, but something got him and that never happened. Where is Anne? Wasshe hurt too?He can't see if there are any windows or doors at all, just a thick cloud of mysterious blackness thatengulfs the space around him. The only weapon that wards off that blinding threat is the dull lightbulb already flickering above his head. 

"Petal?"The voice makes him spin around and search for the speaker, but the echo dies and the depth of thetone isn't one he recognises. Harry spoke more gruffly, slowly allowing the words to melt over you.Edward was husky and gravely, hardly audible unless you knew him. 

"Look at your left." The instruction made Louis' blood run ice cold and his head slowly inch in thatdirection. 

"Keep looking."

 Out of the dark cloud that bordered on his small bright circle, came that same red flame fromearlier. It was the tint of this man's hair and his smile was edging on nervous too as he extended his arm but Louis jerked away from it. He gasped when the stranger came into full light, revealing thecrustiness of his dark eyes and wrinkles on his aged skin.But there was familiarity on this individual. Louis could see the nose of someone he knew fondlyand the jaw structure of the same. He looked at him in awe and horror, ringing ensuing in his redears. 

"Don't be afraid." The man's chapped lips pried away from one another to soothe his racing heart.He even smiled crookedly like them. "I know who you are and I won't hurt you." 

Louis feels his throat go dry and an unwarranted shudder ripple out of him. The stranger from thedarkness took a cautious step forward and moved his hands to his shoulders, shedding his jacket. Hemade the effort to confuse the Hell out of Louis by stepping forward again, forcing himself to bemodest as he draped the heavy leather jacket over Louis' shoulders.He smelt of rain, that earthy dampness, and soil that had been washed away in repeated sweepingmotions. He smelt of rusted metal that was the aftertaste of blood and sweat from physical exertion.Those beady, empty eyes met Louis' after the boy processed his act of kindness and Louisknew who this was. 

"Oh my God." He nearly tripped as he hurried to back away, still clutching the jacket that blanketedhis narrow chest and arms. "Y-You're Dexter." 

"I am." Dexter flashed him an unpredictable grin and Louis could visualise Harry doing the same. "Ididn't think you'd know me."

 Louis keeps silent and can't do much for the sneeze that claws its way up his throat, exiting himpainfully. He sniffs with a red and sore nose, voice clogging up."Get on the bed again." 

Dexter urges, gesturing for Louis to do as such. "You don't have to sit."

 Hesitantly, Louis locates the thin mattress on the floor and stands on it. The cold can no longerreach his bones and he feels his chest settle from the shock of a sneeze. 

"I will return you to my sons." Dexter goes on to say, completely at ease now that they'reacquainted.

 Louis stares at the tearing threads of the mattress with creaky springs for as long as he can. "NNow?"