Apocalypse | L.S [Completed]

XIII

"I'll be right here when you come back, Boo." she had said with her beautiful smile, pressing a kiss on my cheek as she embraced me in her warmth. I didn't want to go, I never thought I'd see this day, but here I was, standing beside Mark in a room full of guns, while he handed over the company to me.

I was only seventeen, I should have been going to a university, making friends, living life.

It was blood, it was death, it was anything but a company to me. I would have fought him if my mum didn't love the man, but my love for mum was greater than my hatred for him.

I parked my car in the driveway, lilies blooming in my mum's garden, the pallid walls covered in aged vines and the rumbling sky told me it was going to pour.

"Mum,"

I called out entering the oddly empty house, a rush of anxiety ran through me as my voice echoed back to me.

"Mum!"

I screamed, now frantically searching every room, every corner.

"Mummy?"

I whispered through a tear-hazed croak.

I entered the master bedroom, covered by a thick layer of blackness and a screaming silence, it wasn't warm like my Mum's room usually would.

"Boobear?" I heard a weak whisper. "Mummy?" I sobbed, scrambling away in search of the light switch.

As the bright light washed over the room, I saw it. They painted her red, left her on the floor while she gasped for air.

"You did this."

It was not my mum, its voice was spiteful and dark, it couldn't be my mum. My mum was warm and free and fucking kind. It was not my mum.

"You did this to me." It screamed, wrapping its fingers around my throat and squeezing it till I couldn't breathe.

"You did this to me!" it screamed again, right next to my ear.

A loud gasp rings across the murky room in the middle of the night, as a frantic louis jolts awake, hands caressing his throat, breathing eratic and skin covered in a thin, icy layer of sweat.

"You did this to me."

Louis finds the voice ringing through his head, the dreadful sight replaying like a boomerang. He tries to breathe, choking in doing so, but as the scene continues to replay over and over again, his ability to control his body shatters, and Louis feels paralysed.

"Mum," he sobs, after so many years he sobs, the heart breaking sobs mixing with the silence, the silk pillow soaking in the salted drops and his eyes screwed shut and he breaks down.

"I'm sorry." He sniffles to no one, but, the pathetically lone room, wrapping his arms around the pillow in search of some warmth; a faux sense of comfort.

*

"Have you slept, Lou?" Marie softly asks, once she places a tray filled with breakfast goods, and strokes Louis' cheek, lovingly.

"They are back."

Louis leans into the touch, taking in whatever warmth he receives. He feels lost and scared and tired. He's shaken up, the nightmare reopening an aged wound he had buried years ago.

"Do you want a day off? I can call your office."

Marie offers, concern running through her voice, knowing the past too well. "I'll be fine. Just...was not expecting it to still hurt as much." Louis sighs defeated. He does not want to be this weak, this emotional. He shouldn't feel this way.