echo. | larry stylinson.

Chapter Seven - Retaliation.

Harry’s POV:

When I opened my eyes I slowly sat up; the world around me was still spinning. I noticed that my nose had stopped bleeding so I must’ve been passed out for quite for some time. I carefully pushed myself off the ground and started to walk home because I knew I had to be home before my mum noticed that I was gone.

When I arrived home I got my keys out of my pockets and unlocked the front door, stepping into the hallway.

“Harry, is that you?” my mother asked and walked out of the kitchen before she even finished that sentence. “Where have you been? I was so worried about you!”

She hugged me while I tried my best to not look up. “I was out… with… friends,” I lied even though I knew I was a bad liar. “Please excuse me, I need to use the bathroom, I’ve been holding it in for half an hour.”

I ran up the stairs where I locked myself in the bathroom; I leant against the door and slid down until I was sitting on the ground, covering my face with my hands.

Today had been a shit day from the very start – my whole body was aching, and so was my soul in that moment.

A sigh escaped my lips and I walked over to the sink; I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror right in front of me, and I looked horrible. My lips were swollen, and so was my left eye while my nose was covered in my dried blood. I got a face cloth and cleaned my face the best I could as my look stopped at something lying on the sink.

Two of my mum’ razors were lying there, and it felt like they were laughing at me. My mum never hid her razors, well, why should she? She had no idea her son was cutting his own skin open. I grabbed one of the razors with shaky hands and popped the blade out (thanks to years of training that I wasn’t exactly proud of).

I hadn’t cut in a while, but would it be bad to try? Most likely, but in that moment I couldn’t care less about it – and before I knew it I clenched my jaw and ran the blade across my forearm. I then looked at the cut; blood was dripping out of the fresh wound, slowly running down my arm and dripping onto the sink.

I added two more cuts (because I couldn’t stop, but then managed to stop before my whole arm was covered in cuts again) and then threw the blade away. I cleaned the blood before I walked into my room where I changed into clean clothes.

I couldn’t believe I cut again. And I couldn’t believe it felt so good.

~

Louis’ POV:

It was the next morning and I entered the hallway, not exactly in a good mood and walked over to my locker. I opened the door, grabbed everything I’d need and stuffed it into my bag before I slammed the metal door shut.

I turned around as I noticed a familiar person entering the hallway, his head lowered to the ground. I looked around and noticed neither Zayn nor his friends were here so I walked up to him.

“Hey Harry, how are you?” I asked him with a smile on my face, but then Harry looked up and I gasped. His face was horrifying, not as in ugly, but as in bruised and kind of damaged  - it almost broke my heart because I immediately knew what had happened.

“W-What happened to your face?” I asked, not exactly sure why I asked that, maybe because I wanted to talk to Harry and that topic was the only thing I could come up with, or maybe because I wanted to hear it from Harry.

Harry looked at me and clenched his jaw. “I know I’m ugly, I get it. There’s no need to remind me.” He tried to walk past me but I grabbed his arm to stop him from walking away. Harry flinched and pulled his arm away.