Medicine (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter One: Louis

  "I fucking hate you!" My mother screamed, throwing a plate at my father.     

"I'm so glad the feeling is mutual!" He sneered, after the plate shattered against the wall.

"Why can't you just give me the fucking divorce?!" She sobbed, slamming her fist against the wall.

"Because of those fucking children that you swear are mine!" My father screamed his reply, shoving the sofa in front of him. 

Arguments between my parents often went on this way, things were always thrown and broken, and my parents always screamed at each other. It was a wonder anything breakable made it in the house. 

"You know they are yours! You're only feeling guilty because of the children you had with that fucking whore!" My mother wailed. 

"The only fucking whore here, is you! You're the one who gave my 'son' another man's name! "

"Because the marriage is over! It's been over for years, you fucking bastard! "

"Why don't you leave then? Why don't you go live with that fucking Tomlinson?!"

"I've tried! You've taken my children from me. You fucking took them from school, and what else was I supposed to do? "

My father raked his hands through his hair in frustration. My mother stood in the corner of the living room, breathing heavily. Parts of her hair were pasted to her forehead with sweat. He stood with his back to me, both of them completely unaware that I am watching them. I am always watching their arguments. 

They always argued when my sister and I were sent to bed. The yelling always woke me up, but my sister never did. Thankfully, she was a heavy sleeper and didn't even stir when the screaming and the slamming would begin. At this point, she was three and I was ten. We shared a bedroom, not out of necessity, but because I wanted to protect her. When the screaming began, I creeped out of my room and sat at the top of the stairs to watch my parents. 

We had moved out of the house my father owned three times, and each time lasted no longer than two weeks. Each time it was because my father would pick me up from school, Lottie up from daycare, and keep us at his house until my mother would arrive to take us home, but she would end up staying. My mother tried to get restraining orders on my father, but each time she was denied because my parents weren't divorced, and weren't in the process of it. My mother filed several times, but retracted the paperwork because the lawyers would tell her that my father could easily win a custody battle. 

"Why can't you see that I love you?" My father hissed through his teeth, "Why can't you see why I am doing all of this?"

"Maybe I'm blinded by you getting your fucking secretary pregnant!" My mother sobbed, "Maybe I'm blinded by the fact that we were married for six months before you mysteriously disappeared on 'business trips', but in reality you were seeing her?" 

"That was a mistake! Why can't you see that?" He yelled. 

"The biggest mistake of all was marrying you." My mother mumbled, stomping towards the stairs. 

I quickly scrambled towards my bedroom, shutting the door softly behind me. I crawled under the covers of my bed and turned my back toward the door. The door creaked open behind me, and I could hear my mother's softened sobs. 

"I only do this for you." She whispered softly, her voice cracking, "I love you both more than you'll ever realize."

"Lou." Jan, my girlfriend, snapped in front of my face, "You're doing that thing again, where you zone out like a looney."

I shrug my shoulders, "Force of habit. What's going on?" 

"We're fixing to go smoke, are you coming with?" She gestered towards the door. 

"Who's we?" I ask, stretching my legs.

Jan sighed, furiously. "Bobby, Lacey, the usuals? God, you are an idiot." 

"You go on ahead, I should probably head to work."

She cut her eyes at me. "Your loss, Lou. You're really starting to worry me."

"I'm fine, really." I smiled, "Go on and enjoy your smoke." 

Jan stood, tucking her freshly bleached and brittle hair behind her ear. Her frame was tiny, dwarfed even more by the oversized coat she wore. We had been dating for eight months, and living together for five. She needed a place to live after her mother kicked her out, so she moved in with me. She had a bad habit of finding trouble, and she never listened to me when I tried to keep her away from it. She could never hold a job, because she couldn't pass a drug test, and she couldn't ever stay clean. Even now, she had quit meth, but taken up smoking pot. I didn't have as much of an issue with her smoking, besides the fact that she slept for most of the day after she smoked it. 

Jan sighed and left the apartment. I had gotten used to the bad feeling I had every time she left, assuming it was just anxiety. If she were going to get caught, she would have by now, as she often told me. I shook my head and grabbed my car keys.

I walked out of the apartment and headed to work.