ANON. || l.s.

Twenty-eight threads

There were footsteps in the hallway. I was still half asleep, at the stage where your eyes stuck together with all the goo you collected overnight. My ears were working fine though, and my heart started racing when I heard the sounds again. Footsteps. Unmistakably.
In a panic, I tried to come up with a plan. Should I pretend I was asleep? Should I scream again? Or should I hide and attack them so I had the upper hand when they'd come in? Who was I kidding. I couldn't defend myself against Father while he was drunk, no way I could win in a fight with a trained member of ANON. Where they ANON. though?

My thoughts went all over the place, and before I could even decide what to do, I heard a light knocking on the glass wall. 
   'Tomlinson...?'
I kept my eyes squeezed shut, too afraid of what I would see if I opened them. 
   'Louis Tomlinson?' 
The knocking continued. What should I do? Should I face them? Beg them to let me out of here? Beg them not to kill me? The knocking had stopped. I wrapped my arms around my legs and stayed still on the bed, eyes closed, until I was certain they'd left. 

After a while, I dared to peek through the slits of my eyes. The light was bright. On the ceiling of my room, there was a fluorescent light, shining an eyeblinding white. I hadn't noticed it when it was dark, probably because the ceiling was unusually high. I now also noticed that the side walls were a different kind of concrete than the one my bed was situated against. Did they build this room, just to keep people in here? It would explain why the hallway was so narrow. The high up ceiling gave me a claustrophobic feeling. It was as if I was sitting inside a concrete tube, no way out other than the hallway I couldn't see fully. I sat up and noticed the temperature was more pleasant than last night though. I still didn't need my hoodie, and it as comfortable enough to the point that I wasn't sweating like crazy anymore. 

I didn't feel safe. There was nowhere to hide - the desk was too tiny - so I sat up, grabbed the pillow and put it in front of my folded up legs, my back resting against the wall. It wasn't much of a barrier, but at least I had some sort of security. It was louder than before too. I hadn't noticed until now. There was a slight humming sound, and I heard some kind of ventilation. When I inspected the ceiling I saw a tiny ventilation vent, blowing fresh air into the room. Maybe that's how they controlled the temperature? I was eyeing up the room when I heard the footsteps again.

I clasped my pillow and hid my face behind it as much as I could, curling myself up in a sitting bawl. Sporadically, my eyes flitted up over the pillow, to see the hallway. The footsteps approached me and then stopped. In front of my room. Then I heard a deep, rumbling voice.
   'Good, you're up...'
My heart was pounding and I felt cold sweats, my hands oozing the anxiety I felt into the pillow I held in a death grip.
   'You can look at me ya know, there's still a glass wall between us, I won't attack you out of the blue if that's what you're scared of...'

"Out of the blue"? So he was planning on attacking me, just not right now? Carefully and slowly I looked up. A tall, slightly chubby man with dark brown hair was leaning against the wall in the hallway. He saw me peeking and grinned, looking me dead in the eye. He had one foot resting against the wall behind him, standing casually with his hands in his pockets. His eyebrows were up as if he ridiculed me for still hugging my pillow in this hilarious position.
I wanted to be angry, to shout at him, but my fear was still too imminent to show it. 
   'Wh-wh...' I cleared my throat, my voice still hoarse from the swelling and all the screaming. 'Who are you?' 

   'Why? Are you scared?'
   'Yes.' I stammered quietly. There was no use in hiding it. I was pretty sure my whole stance was giving it away.
   'I can see that...' He hoisted up the sleeves of his button up shirt and studied me. He looked like he thought the whole situation was pretty funny, because he had this weird grin on his face, his ridiculously whitened teeth shining through once in a while. 
   'Why am I here?' I dared to ask. 
   'It's a little too early to explain that right now. I'm just here to inform you breakfast is ready.' He looked to his left where sounds were drifting into the hallway. Faintly I heard the clanking of cutlery and soft chatter. There were also soft echoes of the footsteps of multiple people, but they didn't seem to head our way. 'I guess you're hungry right?'
   'Why am I here?' My voice was still shaking, but a bit louder now, getting irritated by the lack of answers he had given me. Not something he appreciated though, because he lifted himself off of the wall and walked the short distance to the glass wall, glaring at me. 
   'I said, are you hungry? Yes or no?'
   'No.'

It came out quicker than I anticipated. I was starving actually, but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of caving for something as simple as food. Who knew, they might've poisoned their food. 
   'Suit yourself.' He shrugged, giving me a final glare and walked away. 

The hours were ticking by. I hated that I didn't have some way to tell the time in here. There were no windows to see the daylight to give me some indication of what time it was. Not even something as simple as a clock. I wasted my time away, trying to keep myself occupied other than suppressing panic attacks that kept bubbling up. There were as far as I could see, twenty-eight loose threads on the folded blanket. I had two stains on my right sleeve in the shape of hearts. I counted 61 rows of stones on the wall in the hallway. My stomach had rumbled seven times since he had left.
 
Damn, I was hungry. Still, a small voice inside told me not to take any food they offered. I simply didn't trust them. In the time waiting, I thought of things to say to the man if I saw him again. What questions to ask, what to say, in what tone to ask them. In all those years trying not to tick off Father, I learned to be cunning in communicating. All I had to do was avoid conflict and maybe befriend him. Get him to pity me. The more he saw me as a friend the more likely he was to let me go. 

Another few hours (I think?) went by when I heard his footsteps again. You could hear he was slightly overweight by the way he dragged his feet and stomped them down. I quickly sat up, going over everything I planned on saying.
There he was again. He looked bored. 
   'So...Are you hungry already?'
   'What's your name? I didn't quite catch it the first time?' My voice was shaking, but I was proud that I remembered what I wanted to say. It was friendly and thoughtful, and suggesting he had already introduced himself, so there would be a false sense of familiarity. But he just raised an eyebrow.
   'Getting chatty, are we now?' 
   'I was just wondering...' I wasn't sure how to react. Ofcorse he saw through my trick immediately. Before I could come up with a clever thing to say he started again.
   'Seriously...Not hungry?'
He looked annoyed by me, staring with disinterest and glancing at his watch.
   'Wait...What time is it?'
   'Should I take that as a no?' 
   'Yes.'
   'Yes, you want food?'
I shook my head slowly, having a hard time looking him in the eye. 'No.'
   'Really?'
   'Yes.'
   'Jezus Christ.' He huffed in annoyance and straightened his jacket. 'If you're planning a hunger strike, that's on you bud, not on me.' He wanted to walk away but stopped himself looking at something in my room. 'At least take care of that blue throat of yours. I saw it and you look like you got strangled by a smurf.'
   'What?'
He tapped on the underside of the glass, motioning to something on the ground. Then he walked away with a grumpy look on his face. 

At first, I didn't see anything but on further inspection, I saw a tiny tube on the floor, right next to the door. It had the same dark colour as the doorframe, almost concealing it being there. When I was sure he wasn't around anymore, I quickly stumbled off of the bed, grabbed the tiny tube and sprinted back. When I positioned my trusted pillow in front of my legs again I looked at it. 

It was tiny, smaller than my pinky, and reminded me of those small tubes they sometimes put paint in. In small handwritten letters, it said "Arnica". When I flipped it over, it said "apply on bruise".  It had a kind of pine-scent, not unpleasant and I pondered if using it would mean I was caving. My throat was still swollen and painful though so I decided to use it. I hoisted my turtle neck down and applied a thin layer of the stuff. Immediately I felt it had a cooling effect so I squeezed the tube empty and layered the stuff on. I smiled a bit, feeling like someone had taken care of me, before realizing the harsh reality. I was stuck in a cell, and they'd probably kill me. Then the waterworks came again. 

I must've cried for hours on end. Not the sobbing kind, but the quiet tear kind, rolling down my cheeks without any sound, soaking the pillow beneath me. I had buried myself into it, laying on my side facing the wall, not caring anymore if someone would pass by. The overwhelming hunger wasn't helping my depressing mood either, but who cared? I was going to die, and never see my friends again. A thought that depressed me even more, because did I actually had any friends left? Liam didn't want to talk to me anymore and I rushed out of Zayn's home without an explanation. Did he think I was a freak now too? What if no one cared? What if it was easier for them to let me disappear as if I never existed? 

There was a small tapping on the glass again. I hadn't heard the footsteps approaching, too caught up in my own sorrow, but honestly, I didn't care anymore. Then a familiar voice snapped me out of my haze.

   'Louis...Please eat...'

I rolled over and locked eyes with  a pair of worried, green ones. The eyes of Harry Styles.