Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
(I'll stop with these gifs, I promise!)
I could have just ended everything that day. There, that moment, it was my chance. A chance that I was too naïve and stupid not to take it. I would have doomed Louis' life in a snap. I would get my revenge.
All of my afllictions would have come to an end with just a few words. 'That's Louis Tomlinson, Max, the man who destroyed my life four years ago.'
That was all it took. Just a deep breath.
Max would have called the police. Louis would be taken away once more, because I knew he wasn't allowed around me due to restraining order. As for myself I would have been sent to the nuns probably, by my mother for the rest of my life. She would never tolerate such a disgrace!
Louis' fraud would have been revealed and I would have gained the hatred from everyone around me by not telling them. It was unhealthy for me to be with the disturbed man who took me away from my life. I couldn't even imagine their faces; my mum's, dad's, Max's, Katie's... And once more I would have gained the gold medal and the title ' the dumbest of all'!
With all these in my mind, I was looking at the two men in front of me, Max with his brown eyes narrowed in suspicion and Louis looking stunned. Perhaps, he thought I would turn him in. Nevertheless I did the thing not even myself believed I had done it; I opened my mouth and defended the man I was supposed to hate.
"Max, that's William Poulston." My voice came out more confident than I would ever have expected. I was proud with myself. I've grown into a skilled liar.
Yes, I had made up a name. Once again my dignity was one with the floor. However, it wasn't completely false. In fact, his middle name was William. I remembered it. I don't know how, but I did. He had told me that once. I guess the adrenaline made my mind think more efficiently.
Poulston was the surname of his mother. I knew he hated her, that he didn't even want to hear her name. He told me she left him. He had told me her story.
"The bitch that gave birth to me was from England, London, just like you." he took a large drag of his cigarrete. The plum of his smoke came all over me by the wind and I caughed. I couldn't stand its terrible smell.
He continued as he was looking at the bonfire.
"Her family was wealthy. She was from the british upper class." I could sense the irony in his voice when he spoke of his mother social status, but I remained silent looking at him from the other side.
