Bruises

Chapter 9

Ullo, sorry I didn't upload but I hope you enjoy xxx

Louis hadn't left Harry's side for the past two days. He was clingy and nervous, always grabbing Harry's arm and, when they were out in public, he became tense and tried to shrink into Harry's side. Louis only relaxed when they were back at the flat and had made sure the door was locked.

At first, he'd barely spoken and refused to eat. Slowly, though, Harry managed to coax food into him and, gradually, Louis was returning to his former self. He still had a long way to go but Harry was determined to stick with him throughout it all no matter what.

Louis was becoming more chatty and confident but every time Harry asked about the bruises he would shut down and refuse to talk. He went into an almost catatonic state so Harry had gradually stopped asking even though the anger still burned and he was awake late at night with all the questions going around in his head.

He decided to try once more. It had been three days now so hopefully Louis had recovered enough to talk to Harry. "Hey, Lou. I know you don't want to and you don't have to but it might make you feel better if you told me. One word, maybe but please." Louis bent his head and that was it, Harry thought, a dead end. He wouldn't be able to help Louis or give the person that hurt Louis, what they deserved. Then Louis spoke. It was barely a whisper but Harry heard it loud and clear. "My uncle." Harry took a breath to ask Louis more questions but he interrupted. "Please Haz, just-dont talk. Let me explain." Harry bit his lip and nodded, then Louis began.

"I was nine when my family died in a car crash." He heard Harry's sharp intake of breath but carried on. "I didn't really know what was happening. All I knew was that Mummy and Daddy and my sisters were gone. They were driving to my Gran's and I was at a sleepover." He took a deep breath as a tear slipped down his cheek. "They were hit by a lorry. The driver was drunk. They stood no chance. The car spun off the motorway and landed, upside down, in a ditch." Tears were now dripping down his face. "My sister, Lottie, was only one alive when they managed to get them out." His voice cracked. "But even she died. Later, in hospital. I had no idea. They didn't let me see her until the very end. She was so pale and her eyes were shut and she already looked dead." He was full on sobbing now, the tears dripping silently down his face. "Suddenly there was a long beeping sound and I was dragged out of the room while doctors and nurses gathered around her bed. I was screaming. That's all I remember before it went black." He cut himself off with a sob. "My uncle got custody of me. I'd met him a few times before and he seemed nice enough but always smelt of stale alcohol. At first, he was fun. We had good times but slowly he began drinking more and more. He had always enjoyed a drink but it got out of hand. I was 13 and had no idea what to do. Most nights, when I came home, he was either roaring drunk or passed out in a puddle of his own vomit." He shivered at the memory. "Then I came out. I was 14 and, stupidly, I told him. He got so angry. I was terrified. I remember him punching me and then falling to the floor. He started kicking me and yelling all this awful stuff and-" his voice cracked "and then he spat on me and walked away. I couldn't move, I was numb. There was just this roaring sound inside my head then I think I passed out. Then, every night when I came home he would shove or hit me and tell me I was worthless, that being gay was a sin and I caused my family's deaths. He told me that so many times that I- I started to believe him." He gave a bitter chuckle "This carried on for a few years. I started to make excuses not to see my friends and, gradually, they left me alone. I became quiet and withdrawn, no one wanted to know me. The strange little queer kid. Then I met you. It was the best time of my life for a long while. Finally, somewhere I was safe, where no one could hurt me. A place I could be myself and not worry about it. Then I annoyed you." Harry tried to interrupt

"No-"

"Let me finish." Harry stayed silent but he looked annoyed. "Anyway I ran home, well; the house. It had stopped being a home a long time ago. So, I went there. I don't know what I was thinking. My uncle was in and he was really drunk and really angry. He kept asking where I had been, like he even cared. I told him I had been with friends so he started yelling and calling me- things. I tried to stop him, tried to explain but he was too strong. This time it was much worse. I think he carried on, even after I was unconscious. When I woke up I could barely move but I knew I had to get put of there. I walked around a bit and ended up here and, well, you know the rest." He smiled weakly but the tears were still running down his face.

Harry grabbed Louis and held him tight. They were both crying now. "Oh god, Lou. I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I'm sorry for shouting at you. I'm sorry for getting cross. I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry." Louis pulled away and held onto Harry's shoulders, looking straight into his eyes. "Harry, no, it is not your fault. None of it is. Don't you dare blame yourself." Louis face was serious. "Don't you ever think that. Not even for a second."

"No, but I could've asked more questions. I could've-" he was cut off by a pair of lips on his own. Louis pulled away. "Shut up Haz."