hostage || l.t ✔️

fifty three

tw - attempted assault

London Reed
Well, I got my period.

I woke up this morning with bad cramps and I wasn't sure why, because I've had them for a few days I just suspected it was nothing but when I went to pee this morning, my white underwear was now red, and I didn't have anything on me.

I panicked. I didn't know what to do so while Louis was still asleep, I changed my underwear and wrapped what seemed like a whole roll of toilet paper, around so I could make-shift a pad.

I didn't know what to do, I haven't had my period in over three months now. I didn't even know if you could get period stuff here, and I knew the only person I can ask is Louis. But why was I scared?

"Louis..." I whisper, I knew he had work today as well. I sit next to him on the bed and I trace his bare back, and I can see his skin crawl. I run my fingers up and down his back because he needs to wake up anyway. Thankfully, he turns his head to face me, sitting up in his elbows as he rubs his eyes with the sides of his fists like a child.

"Yeah..?" he looks at me.

"I have bad news and I don't know what to do," I whisper, trying not to panic him. He blinks at me with his tired blue eyes and furrows his brows.

"What.."

"I got my period.."

His eyes drop. "Are you shitting with me?"

"No..." I shake my head. "My stomach has been hurting all week and today I woke up and..." I look at where I was lying to see a patch of blood, it wasn't very big, but it was there.

I expected him to get really mad at me but again, he didn't. He just looked up at me with his tired eyes. "I was told you wouldn't get it anymore, that's why I put you on that form,"

"A bar that's producing hormones is not going to stop me from getting my period..." I shake my head. "Not my fault I have a fucking uterus,"

"Well, what am I supposed to do?"

"I need pads or tampons, anything that'll stop me from doing that," I point. "I'm sorry, I didn't know,"

"I'm going to bins these..."

"They just need to be soaked—"

"I'll just bin them," he got up in his boxers and rubbed his face, padding to the bathroom. I hug my knees and sit there, then deciding to help. I took all the pillows off the bed and put them on the floor, taking off the duvet.

"London, just leave it," he says with white foam from toothpaste in his mouth.

"No, it's my fault I'll clean it—"

"London," he grabs my hands and spins me around. "It okay, I know you didn't mean to, but annoying though," he says. "Just leave it,"

"I'm sorry," I whisper and he nods.

"Just...stand here," he bring me near the me door, and I could feel it. He rushes into the bathroom and then comes out with his toothbrush still in his mouth but he walks over to his drawers, pulling out a pair of black jeans like always and a black singlet, he undoes his sweatpants and slips the jeans up his legs, grabbing his belt from the floor and brushes his teeth as he does it. I watch in fascination of how he rushes around I whine in pain of a cramp.