Stockholm Syndrome [Larry Stylinson AU]

l.4

"Louis. Louis get up. You need to move so that the blood flow to your arm stops ok?"

Eleanor's voice slowly made its way through my ears to my brain. Immediately, I felt a throbbing ache on my upper left arm and moved my other hand to grab hold of myself.

"DONT TOUCH YOURSELF YOU IDIOT." That, again, was Eleanor. I growled; this woman was already making me extremely annoyed.

"Well thank you for your help, lets hope it helped me, but I'm sure I can handle myself," I snapped.

I got up and marched to the door of her apartment feeling her shocked stare on the back of my head.

Unfortunately for me, as soon as I touched the door handle, I passed out again.

*****

When I regained consciousness, Eleanor was still there, and this time with a mirror.

One hand on her hip, and scrunched up eyebrows she said, "just look at yourself and decide if you want my help or not."

This time, I thought about what I was going to do before opening my trap, and took hold of the mirror. I saw a skeletal version of myself, covered in my own vomit. If that was not bad enough, the gash on my arm was not looking any better.

I sighed in defeat and nodded to her. She nodded back and, without a word, began to clean me up. The vomit was successfully removed from my body and my stomach had been filled as well. For the first time in ages, I was finally clean.

Then Eleanor began operating the wound. First, cleaning it (which stung like hell). Then, Eleanor announced very calmly, as if she does everyday:

"Hmm, I think I'm gonna have to give you stitches."

"STITCHES?!?" I yelled. "DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW TO DO THAT?"

"As a matter of fact I do." She smugly replied.

"I'm sorry but I need some proof here. Some paperwork or...certificates or something to prove that you are qualified." I was getting a little bit hysterical. This woman who barely looked like she could cook a decent meal was going to stitch my arm? Oh hell no.

"Fine." Eleanor huffed, and she went into her room. Wait, she had proof?

She returned will a black folder which looked like it had been retrieved from a tomb. Placing it in my hand, I read "Welcare Medical Forms," and looked with confused eyes at the person in front of me.

Before Eleanor began to explain, she sighed and in her eyes was visible sadness. "A lifetime ago, before I became this mess of a person, I was living a life which only existed in dreams. I was a doctor, working at Welcare and I was married and had children; one son and one daughter. Everything was perfect for a year, until someone at the hospital murdered my husband, and framed me. I was separated from my children who didn't believe it wasn't me. For 6 years I rotted in jail, and by that time, my heart was torn because not once, had my children come to see me, or replied to my letters and phone calls. Not even once."

All that I could see was sadness and hopelessness. In her eyes, on her face and in every movement she made. Eleanor was broken and could not be fixed.

"Eleanor, I'm so sorry that must have been absolutely terrible for yo-," but I was interrupted by the sound of sirens in the distance.

"Holy shit, oh my god they are after you aren't they?" The panic in her voice was clear. "Ok I'll give you the equipment and you are going to have to stitch yourself up later I guess."

Wait what? Myself? This woman is seriously mental.

However, I had no time to argue because Eleanor had already bandaged my arm and packed a bag of food and medical "things" for me.

"Go go go go go," she hurried me out of the apartment. Before I left, I grabbed her arm and looked deep into her pained eyes. "Thank you" I murmured softly and watched her eyes soften with admiration.

"But there is no way I am going to stitch myself up with this," I finished and handed her back the needle and wire. Immediately, she laughed and gently folded my palm back so I was clutching the needle and wire. "So then find someone that will."

With that, I left.

******

I ran for as long as I could as fast as I could until I could no longer hear the sound of wailing sirens that made my heart jump with fear.

It was almost midnight when I reached my backup hideout - the new villa that had recently come up. Unfortunately, while I was approaching the white structure, I saw people going into the house. A family. Fear ran through my veins.

My options were scarce; I could either stay near the house and risk getting caught by the new occupants. Or, I could carry on and find another temporary hideout. The decision was confirmed due to the searing pain in my arm and my lack of breath; I was going to be camping out in the garden until I could set off again.

Quickly and quietly I made my way over the fence onto the garden. There was a rusty old shed in the corner which I had previously stocked with food for emergencies, and this was definitely one. As I made my way towards the shed, out of the corner of my eye I spotted a light from one of the bedrooms. Oh no, if someone saw me they would definitely call the police and that would be the end. The adrenaline in my body caused me to immediately rush into the shed, and lock the door behind me. I pulled away one panel from the wooden flooring to reveal my food supplies and sleeping bag. Exhausted and famished, I finished all the food in a matter of minutes and slept no later.

*****

"HARRY LUNCH IS READY!"

The sound of a female yelling awoke me from my sound sleep. Lunch? I silently cursed - I had overslept. This situation however, was not half as bad; while they were eating, I could grab as many supplies as I could and possibly hot-wire their car and then escape. All of this would have to be done very carefully of course, fortunately, I had experience.

With a promising plan in mind, I began packing my sleeping bag and food wrapping, and that was when I noticed my arm. There was pus coming out the of the cut and the bandage was soaked in blood. I remembered Eleanor - I needed to get it stitched. But by who?

I would have to figure that out later. Right now, I had to get off the owners property.

Hood up, and bag on my back, I tiptoed towards the open window on the first floor which would lead to the staircase. Hopefully, everyone would be in the kitchen eating lunch by now.

Slowly, I made my way up the staircase and was halfway up when I heard footsteps bounding towards me from the upper floor. I had obviously assumed wrong, and to make the situation even better, there was no where to hide. So when Mr/Mrs.Loudsteps came into range, I knocked them out with a single punch.

Turns out, it was a dude. And the dude was wearing a shirt with the logo from the Medical School in Harvard. I remembered my arm - he could stitch it up. So, instead of leaving him here and making the situation look like an accident, he was going to come with me.

I dragged him out of the window I came from and made it out just in time - the three other occupants had made their way to the staircase.

"Harry?"
"Where did he go?"
"I swear I heard something fall."

Leaving them to their own enquires, I continued to drag Harry away from the house. He was groaning a bit, so I punched him again - I had to keep him quiet.

I had it made it no further than the garage when I became light-headed and my arm started throbbing. Light placing Harry on the garage floor, I got to work on hot-wiring the yellow Jeep in front of me. A few minutes later, I was driving through the desert towards an abandoned construction site when Harry came to his senses in the backseat.