To Write Love on His Arms (a Larry Stylinson fanfic)

Chapter Thirteen

Right after Louis said that he hates me, I slammed the door behind me. I know I was the one that stupidly sent the text 'I hate you' to him a couple days ago, but I didn't mean it the way that Louis meant it. When I sent the text, I was drunk and angry about him getting engaged to Eleanor. But when Louis said he hates me, I could hear the actual hate and resentment in his voice toward me.

As soon as I left the flat, I received a text from Zayn, asking how I was. He was checking up on me, to probably see if I had been broken anywhere by Louis. Sure Louis did beat the living crap out of me back there, but what hurts me the most is my broken heart.

The man that I fell head over heals in love with hates me.

So for the past thirty minutes, I have been driving around the area surrounding London. Just trying to get my mind off of Louis.

In the last two days, I haven't been taking my antidepressants or painkillers. Which is taking a huge toll on me. Naturally, I don't cry too much, but right now the tears that are rolling down my face are making it hard to see the road. I have also been getting some suicidal thoughts, but I try to shake them off as they come on.

Deciding that the only thing that could possibly take my mind off of things faster that my medicine is alcohol, I head over to a bar in Croydon.

The bar I chose is full of what you would probably call bikers back in the states. Walking in I feel so out of place, which strangely doesn't have much of an effect on me, because I have been feeling that way about a lot of things lately.

A game is on the TV, keeping most of the customers focused on that. If it wasn't on, I would probably already be out of here.

Once I am settled at a stool at the bar, a bartender comes up to me.

"Hi I'm Jake, what may I get you today?" the bartender asks as he takes out a shot glass from underneath the bar.

"I'll take a double of Makers Mark 101 proof" I say as I wipe my hand over my face.

I know I shouldn't be drinking something that strong, and usually someone (Louis), would be at my side making sure I don't order something like that, but I need it. I need it to numb the pain I am feeling.

Jake pours the liquor into the shot glass he set down, and then slides it over it me.

"Here ya go, just a warning before you drink it. That stuff is pretty strong".

"I know, it's just what I need right now" I say as I pick up the shot glass a down the drink right there.

The shots continue coming to me for the next fourty-five minutes. Shot after shot, I feel both my body and mind literally become numb. By the sixth double shot, I am already slurring my speech.

Since I am unable to drive myself home, Jake called up a cab to come bring me home, well I mean back to Nicks place. I'm not going to lie, living at Nicks is in all honesty horrible. The last two nights, I felt have felt lonely and cold not having someone to cuddle up to in bed.

When I arrive back at the flat, my mind isn't thinking straight. Everything is disoriented and my head is already starting to ache. Going in, I notice that Nick isn't home again. He is probably out with some friends having a ball, living the bachelor lifestyle.

I take off my coat and throw it on top of the coat rack, not caring wether or not Nick will like that. After all I am doing all I can to keep myself from toppling over onto the floor.

Slowly I make my way upstairs stumbling over my feet. Thank god there is a railing to help me on my way up.

As I reach the top step, I hear a voice in my head that I haven't for years.

'Go get your blade' its says scaring me.

The voices like that are what caused me to originally begin cutting years ago. But, they stopped after I started my regime of medicine. Now that I have forgotten to take them in a few days, they are coming back.

Choosing to ignore it, I go into my room and take off my shoes.

'Come on one cut will help take Louis off your mind for a little while longer.'

Sitting on the bed, I start to think maybe it's right. After all cutting has always managed to help me.

It takes a couple of minutes, but once I find my blade, I go into the bathroom. Nearly toppling over as I step onto the cold floor from the warm carpet.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I am surprised at what is staring back at me. In the last two days I have become a mess. My hair is all over the place, my eyes are red from crying earlier, and I have acne breaking out because of the stress.

'You look hideous' the voice says in my head, making me feel lower than I already was.

That's when something inside my snapped, causing me to drag the blade harshly across my wrist, right near where I had cut myself last night.

Immediately I am able to tell that something is wrong, despite my drunken state. The amount of blood that is escaping my body is like nothing I have ever experienced in all the time I have done this to myself.

I start to feel dizzy as more blood spews out of me, forcing me to grab onto the bathroom counter to keep me from falling onto the floor. A few more minutes pass, before my legs give out on me.

My body hits the floor hard, hitting my head painfully on the marble floor. For a minute I think I am going to die like this, laying on the cold floor being surrounded by my blood. But, the thought ends when I go into shock.