Faking

11

Louis' POV

It was dark. Pitch black, couldn't even make out silhouettes, dark. My hands trembled, as did the rest of my practically paralyzed body. I searched for Zayn, for Harry, even Niall and Liam but no one was there. I was all alone in this dark place where even silhouettes couldn't be recognized in the near distance.

Footsteps were loud and thumping near me, almost as if they were right beside me. A sudden light was flickered on, it was so abrupt it made my eyes shut quickly. When I finally opened them what I saw sent a wave of panic through me, my breathing presumed labored as I watched the silhouette of a man stand up from Zayn's and Harry's dead bodies.

He held a knife, bloodied and long, silver under red, thick, liquid coating. Then he turned to me. I couldn't make out his face, he was just...dark. His whole appearance a silhouette even in the blinding light. Panic was struct through me as he seemed to start walking closer, I struggled to move but I couldn't.

I was stuck.

My vocal cords weren't working, my limbs either so I was just prepared for him to do anything to me. Where was Liam? Where was Niall? Where was I? A blood-curdling scream pierced through the air, hurting my ears but I recognized it as Nialls. Not even a second later a deeper voice joined the blonds, Liams.

It was Liam and Niall. They were somewhere, hurt probably, screaming for help but I was helpless. I was helpless. The man's feet thumped closer, a sudden cold felt on my cheek and something running down it. It was his knife, the knife that held Curly and Zayn's blood. The knife that was used to kill my fathers and now to kill my brothers because Niall and Liam were here.

They just were, as if they had always been sitting tied and gagged with tears running down their face. I wasn't dumb, their screams are still ringing in my head. They were just sitting in chairs, tied up and looking at me. They were just looking at me. Their eyes were frightened and red, puffy and fuck, they were just staring at me.

And I couldn't do anything.

"D-dad-ddy..." My voice shocked me, it was hoarse and choked, asking for someone who was dead. "Pa-pa..." I croaked, but my voice was a mere whisper, clogged up with the sound of tears. I wanted them to help me, them to help Liam and Niall but they couldn't. It didn't matter. Besides, they were dead.

I cried and my voice was choked as the man's knife just dragged along my skin, leaving a trail of my Dad and Papa's blood. My eyes briefly flickered to Liam's, he was staring right at me. I wanted him, I needed him, I was sorry, I was just upset. I didn't mean anything, well I did but I didn't mean to upset him!

Niall. He was whimpering through a gag and I could see him shaking, much like myself as I felt the man's knife lift, replaced by his tongue. I shivered, crying because that was all I could do. Just cry for people who were dead right in front of me. Niall and Liam watched as the man dragged down his trousers.

That's what was happing. The man whom I now knew was the bad man, was getting naked and ready to rape me. He was doing it while Niall and Liam watched with such pain on their faces, and I knew it wasn't for their own pain but rather for mine and I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it. My body was back to work.

My limbs flew, kicking and hitting as I screamed so much my lungs hurt. I shook my head because I didn't want it, I didn't want it. I didn't want to see those pained looks aimed at me, I didn't want to be the cause of my brother's pain, and most of all. I didn't want to be raped. It had happened one too many times and I was done.

Hadn't I given enough?

"P-Please...no..." My whimperes were laughed at, mocked by the bad man. The fucking bad man whom I hated. I hated him with everything in me. I hated him because he was mean. I hated him because he mocked me. I hated him because he thought raping me and hurting me was okay. And I absolutely loathed him because he took me from Liam.