Sting » Louis

thirteen

I had been staring at my computer screen for hours. I blinked ocassionally and felt my chest go up and down due to my uneased breathing. I was crouching in my living room's sofa, with my laptop resting on my lap. It was late at night and Max had already fallen asleep, thus it was quiet in the apartment. Nevertheless, my rapid heartbeat made me think that he would wake up and see me like this. My white oversized shirt felt cool on my skin, my loose sweatpants tight around my waist. I was tugging the end of my braid as I was looking at the screen. I was hesitant about what I wanted to do. I was afraid of the truth, of what I would find out. I could practically feel it. I was going to be so disappointed, but still I had the spark of hope inside of me.

I wasn't a person who could take easily decisions. I was afraid I would be wrong and I would regret my decision easily. I didn't trust myself. Life itself proved that to me. My insecurities made me distant from people, I was like this since I was a little girl. I pitied myself for my flaws. Only one person made me forget about them, made me feel alive. And that was the person I wanted to search for, Louis.

My fingers grazed over the keys of my laptop. I had nothing to lose. I needed to know what happened to him. I had the right to know. How could he possibly have changed so much after four years? Surely the internet would have some kind of information. Back then, four years ago, there has been such a fuss about Louis and myself. I knew that my face would probably be on every channel and frontpage, but my parents would forbid me to see any of it. They said they didn't want me to get hurt. The true reason behind this behaviour was -apparently- their wish for me not to find out what happened to Louis.

The court had decided his confinement in jail for five years with the surveillance of a psychologist. I remember myself there, in that room. As much as I wanted to forget my pathetic little self back then, I couldn't. I was wearing a baby blue sundress, my hair was perfectly curled by my mother and pinned back. I looked much younger than I truly was. Dark circles were formed below my glassy green eyes. I hadn't gotten any sleep the previous night, I was writing a letter to him. About everything that he made me feel. He had taught me love, passion, trust. And I loved him, despite my parents and my psychologist's claims.

I refused to open up to anybody until the trial. Thus, doctor Kane told me to write everything that I kept in my heart. It was a way to get this weight out of my chest. Of course she hadn't told me to write to Louis, but to myself, like a diary. I didn't need a diary nor psychological help. I knew what I needed; him. And I wanted to make my feelings clear to him and maybe erase any doubts that might have formed in his mind about my love before he was taken away. I didn't really know if he ever got that letter, but I hoped he did.

That day in the court, I was squeezed between my parents, with my gaze focused on some random small crack on the wall behind the judges. However, my eyes would involuntarily peek at Louis, who was sitting at the other side of the room, with his head bowed. How much I wanted to run to him, grab and kiss him, there in front of everyone. How much I wanted to show them that this broken man was mine, just like I was his and he had done nothing wrong. Was falling in love a crime? Every time that my parents did catch me looking at him, they would give me judgemental glares. A tiny smile would make Louis' lips curl up, when our eyes met. And these moments I thought how much that man loved me. Even though everything was done between us and he was about to go to jail, the hope in his eyes and his small smile gave me strength.

I shook my memories away and continued staring at the blank search bar. Louis was surely bailed out from prison, since his sentence was for five years and four had passed. But the big question for me was by who. And as much as I tried to think about any possible payers, none came to mind. He had no family. His father was found dead at a bar when Louis was twelve, as he told me, and his mother had completely forgotten about him and was somewhere lost in the world, maybe in England.