LOUIS' POV
Looking at Harry curled in a fetal position at my feet does not give me any pleasure. In fact, it sickens me. I close my eyes, disgusted in myself.
He looked so peaceful when he wasn't conscience, unlike the troubled boy everyone say at school.
Unlike the boy no one knew the story behind.
Guilt pangs in my stomach. I feel like I'm gonna throw up.
Because instead of feeling disgust towards this boy, I only feel affection, and attraction.
"Your not a fag, Tomlinson." I think to myself. Kicking at the dirt behind me, I sprint back to the school, leaving Harry unconscience on the ground.
HARRY'S POV
I open my eyes and groan. An explosion of pain comes from the right side of my head. I curl further into a ball.
Bruises are blooming all over my arms, some in the shape of fingerprints.
I press my cheek to the bitter cold concrete, and it ease the sting of the scrape there.
I look up. I am in the school parking lot. Cool air swirls around me, snowflakes occasionally melting as soon as they touch my skin.
My legs are numb, and so are my fingers and toes. I touch my lips, and I can't even feel it.
I stand up, and I immediately fall over in pure agony. The blood rushes to my face in short hot bursts. I feel like I could faint any moment.
Stumbling back to my feet, I grab my backpack and sprint to the school. Louis is going to PAY for this.
LOUIS' POV
The bell rings, and I leave class. That's when I see Harry practically falling down the hall. He is a complete mess, and he looks like shit. His usually rosy red lips are blue, and one side of his face is scraped and bloody. His clothes are slashed and ripped.
Bruises are appearing up and down his arms, and his curls are a tangled mess. I almost say I'm sorry when I see the swollen right side of his head.
I bite my lip to keep from crying out in guilt. I did this to him. This is my fault. All my fucking fault.
As he stumbles past me, I grab his arm to steady him. He looks up at me, and realization hits his face.
"Don't fucking TOUCH me Tomlinson," he hisses, pure hatred and venom dripping in his voice.
I am taken aback by his tone. My voice falters, and I let go of his arm.
I open my mouth, but no words come out.
HARRY'S POV
I need a way to get rid of this pain. I need a release. I shove past Louis and to the school bathroom. The bell rings, thankfully, and it clears out.
People stare at me in disgust as they pass, but don't comment.
As soon as its empty, I dig through my backpack.
There they are. My blades.
I throw my backpack on the ground hastily. I run the blade across my arm.
It hurts so fucking much, but it still feels so heavenly. I sigh as rubies of dark scarlet blood slowly ooze from my cuts.
I slice the blade across my arm, this time over a healed scar. I wince in pain, but soon find pleasure of the feeling of it.
When I'm done, I take my bandages that I always bring with me and wrap them around my wrist to stop the blood flow.
That's when I hear a noise. I whip my head around, but only see a shadow of what was there
"Shit," I think.
LOUIS' POV
I follow Harry to the bathroom silently, hoping he doesn't notice.
He goes in, but after a few minutes, he doesn't come out. I walk in, not really sure of what I might find.
That's when I see Harry leaning over the bathroom sink, a blade in his hand, and blood running down his wrists.
I drop the paper I was holding, and sprint out of the bathroom.
