Fight To Finish (Larry) ☑️

TEN

12/MAY/2015

#1DForever

"No Lou, it's called post-traumatic stress."
"Pre-, post-, its all the same damn thing!"

Louis exclaimed. He was laying down on the hospital bed as Lottie sat in a chair next to the bed. He was hoping to be discharged today because the hospital stinks!

No cheesy foods! No good shows! Poor network! What kind of life was this!

The door opened to reveal Niall and Liam. Niall, ofcourse, ran over to Louis, encasing him in a bone-crushing hug. Liam smiled and walked over to him.

"You're a fucking cunt."

Liam laughed and hugged him.

"I just wanna apologize for putting you guys through all this shit. Maybe I am going crazy. I wish I could have handled it better. You guys are the best. Thank you."

Their group hug was cut short by a group of three official-looking-men walking in. The four looked at the men-in-black suspiciously.

"Louis Tomlinson?"

The one in the middle asked with no emotion whatsoever.

"Yes?"
"We have been informed of your case and it happens to be what we specialize in."
"What case? Who are you people?"

Niall asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"We are the D.P.T.M.A."

Another replied, also with no emotions.

"Um... Okay. How may I help you?"
"The question here, Mr. Tomlinson, is how may we help you?"

Lottie held Louis' hand tightly.

"Mr. Tomlinson, you have been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress."
"Are you counsellors?"

Liam asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Not exactly."

* * *

15/MAY/2015

D.P.T.M.A.

Doncaster Post-Trauma Mental Asylum.

Nobody saw that coming. At all.

The white van doors opened to reveal Louis. He stepped out of the car, eyeing the three-storey building suspiciously. He was led into the building and into an office on the lower level.

The office had two leather chairs infront of an auburn wooden desk. It had paintings all over the orange walls creating a sunset vibe.

"Mr. Tomlinson, welcome. Please have seat."

A man in a blue suit and a white lab coat over it, sat at the desk and motioned for Louis to seat on either of the leather chairs.

"Now Louis..."
"How long?"

Louis interrupted, sighing and crossing his arms.

"Excuse me?"
"There's no point in negotiations or arguing so I wanna know how long."
"Well okay..."

* * *

The walls were white, and possibly repainted recently. They had a new texture to them. There was a bed, a wardrobe and a bedside table, all child-proof. A door separated the room and the bathroom.

Louis walked in escorted by three guards from the asylum. One informed him that lunch would be served in three hours in the cafeteria on the upper level. And with that, they left him alone, to his thoughts.