Stockholm Syndrome [Larry Stylinson AU]

l.2

Glass pricked my cheek, waking me up. Lying on the floor, sweat dripped down my forehead. Dry blood covered my arms and legs. I used my elbows to prop me up as I took in my surroundings; glass splattered all over the floor and a wrecked TV.

The events of last night flooded back. I groaned and made my way to the bathroom.

I was in a terrible state. My hair was greasy and too long for my liking. My knees wobbled whenever I walked and my back exploded with pain with the effort of keeping my frail body upright.

I brushed me teeth and did the best to get my blood off my pale, dry skin.

As soon as I had sorted out myself, I grabbed the broom and mop and started clearing up my mess. I sweeped up the glass and mopped the floors until they shined. Feeling slightly better, I decided to dust the couch and make my shabby bed. I felt the weight lift off my chest as I looked over my work - no matter what state I was in, I could not bare the uncleanliness of the space I was living in.

At around noon, I attempted to eat some cereal. But as usual, after 5 minutes my stomach lurched it all out again. It was as if my body did not want to be controlled by me any longer.

I left the building clad in a black Adidas jumper I had stolen, my filthy tracksuit bottoms and a pair of grey trainers I had found in the dumpster.

Before exiting the flat, I grabbed my keys in one hand and the trashcan in the other. I made my way down the stairs, but even after using two bags to make sure the glass would not cut the bag open, it happened.

The already shattered glass broke into smaller pieces on the uneven concrete floor but it was unheard due to my loud cussing which caused the door of the apartment I was in front of to open.

A small, skinny female stepped out wearing a white see-through t-shirt and ripped jeans. She wasn't wearing anything on her feet which made her neon polish shine brighter than the sun itself. Great, I grumbled to myself, I've got company.

Before she could open her mouth to tell me off, I spat "What are you staring at woman!?" And went back up to fetch my broom to clean up the goddamn mess for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

By the time I got to my apartment and back again, I was panting - my fitness was not that great considering the lack of food I was able to consume.

When I reached the floor, half of the glass was already gone. That girl was clearing up my mess. What the hell? Did she believe I was not capable of clearing up and bit of glass? And I told her just that.

Mrs.Better Than Me didn't have the decency to look at me as she replied smugly "Well considering you are panting because of your terribly long journey up the billion flights of stairs, yes I don't think you are capable of handling the glass without cutting yourself again."

"Firstly, who do you think you are, and secondly, are you judging me from being unfit and how the hell do you know I cut myself?" I was beyond furious, and this smart-ass was driving me nuts already.

I heard laughter. Oh that woman has some nerve. "Stop talking like your writing an essay dude and you've got blood on your forehead calm down." She sounded amused as she cleared up the last few pieces of glass on the floor.

Not bothering to respond, I fumed past her, grabbed the bag from her hands and carried on with my life.

"Nice to meet you too Louis, I'm Eleanor," I heard her yell as I went down the stairs two at a time. "Oh and you're welcome!"

I almost stopped in my tracks when I heard my name. If she knew who I was, would she call the cops? Flashing back, I realised she was probably on their wanted list as well, since she was living in this building.

I tossed the glass into the dumpster and left the broom, which I could not be bothered to carry all the way back to my apartment, behind the stinking box and hoped nobody would take it.

Hoodie up, I carried on with my useless life, down to my "safe-house;" an illegal bar across the road. The heat was unbearable and I could feel the heat of the pavement radiating through the worn-out soles.

"Shameless rebels." It was where all the dangerous criminals like me hung out. It was located deep underground and you could only access it if the bouncer know you personally.

The rule was, the more you appeared on TV for being Wanted, the more drinks you would get for free.

So lucky for me, for now I got an unlimited stream of alcohol.

As soon as I walked in everyone cheered. "Here comes the monster," Niall grunted as he passed me my usual beer.

"Guess what," he said.

I raised my eyebrows in reply.

"18, a new record."

I shot him a fake grin as I internally felt devastated. Never had I ever wanted this life. I just wanted to be normal.

Laughter boomed across the rotten walls of the crowded bar. It was Zayn. Turning away, I thought about how much I hated the guy. Loud, obnoxious and rude, I wondered why anyone tolerated him. The other guys were perfectly fine, minding their own busi-

"Louis Tomlinson, is a face to look out for and avoid. Known for threatening and torturing people, a reward of 10,000,000 AED is offered if anyone knows of his location."

Immediately, the whole bar fell silent, all eyes glued to the small screen. And I knew, with a price like that on my head, no longer was this a place to call safe.

Before anyone could react, I grabbed my 17 beers, pulled my hood up, and left.

The last thing I heard was Zayn yelling: "Well what are we waiting for? Call the police!"