Hello, Mr. Celebrity (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter Twenty Four

I feel like such a horrible person. Eh.

Chapter Twenty Four

Louis' Point of View

I peeled my heavy eyes open, a groan escaping my dry lips.

I blinked rapidly to clear my blurry vision. Where am I?

Then the kidnapping played over in my mind, and a wave of dread washed over me.

I heard a muffled grunt come from beside me, and I turned my head to see Niall laying slumped against the wall next to me. His white blonde hair was stained dark red from a patch of dried blood coating the center of his head.

"Nialler?" I croaked, my voice scratchy.

He groaned, stirring a bit in his unconscious state.

I reached out with a shaky hand, brushing the crusty hair from his eyes. "Niall." I spoke louder in hopes of waking him up.

His eyes fluttered like he was trying to open them, and he finally pried them open the rest of the way.

He looked around confusedly, before looking at me with a pained expression.

"My head hurts." he mumbled.

"What happened?" I asked, referring to his injured head.

"One of your dad's goons hit me in the head with my acoustic to knock me out. I hope she's okay." he said, his eyebrows furrowing.

I sighed. Of course Niall got knocked over the head with his guitar and the only thing he was worried about is is the instrument is damaged.

Suddenly, the heavy door to the basement type room we were being held in swung open, and my father stalked in with two of his helpers. Different goons than last night, might I add.

"Good morning sleepy heads!" my dad boomed. "You two sleep awfully deep."

Niall rolled his eyes. "That's what happens when you knock us out, genius." he stated sarcastically.

My father's grin slipped into a scowl. "I've never liked you." he sneered at Niall.

Niall smiled obnoxiously at him. "I'm flattered."

My dad ignored him, and shifted his gaze to me. "Son,"

I looked up at him, glaring. "Yes, father?" I asked, sneering the last part.

He smirked. "Now now, that's no way to speak to your flesh and blood, is it Louis?"

My stomach churned. "Thankfully I got more of Mom's genes than yours."

His smirk dropped at the mention of my mother. He stalked over to me threateningly. I felt Niall tense up next to me.

My dad leaned down and grabbed my face roughly. "Don't ever talk about her. A murderer shouldn't speak of the one he killed."

A little piece of me broke on the inside at his words, but I kept my expression blank, and tried not to show the pain he was causing by holding my chin so tightly. I was sure there would be bruises there tomorrow.

He glared into my eyes for a few more minutes, then he harshly tore his hand from my face, and sped over to a wooden table that was sitting against the wall across the room.

"I left your boy toy a note, just to let him know in who's hands you are. I'm sure he will be relieved to know it's mine." the devil spoke nonchalantly.

My blood boiled. "You stay away from him." I growled.

He turned around to grin at me. "I have no idea why you wouldn't trust me,"