Bound by Pages | larry

thirty-two

Louis shifted his arms against the cold metal railings of the stairs for what felt like the millionth time that minute. Or maybe that second. He didn't know. It seemed to him that his internal clock had stopped ticking altogether. 

The one thing he knew was that he was thirsty. So. Damn. Thirsty. How long has it been since he taken even a sip of water? He couldn't answer that question either since that would require him to know how long he had been trapped in this basement. 

Another thing he knew was that it was quiet. So. Quiet. There was no way of knowing how much noise was being made upstairs, but to him, it might as well be a still wasteland. He hadn't been surrounded by this much silence since he went into the soundproof room at the local museum when he was twelve. 

The only thing breaking the deafening silence was Louis' shallow breaths and his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

He had been drifting in and out of sleep for the last few hours, or at least it felt like a few hours. Louis couldn't see himself, but he was almost certain that he looked terrible. He pictured himself having dishevelled hair, tear stains running down his cheeks, swollen lips from biting them, and eyes so puffy he could feel them. 

His wrists were rubbed red from the rope that was still binding him to the staircase. At first, he was so distressed, mind running a mile a minute. Now, he kind of just felt empty. Empty and numb. It was better this way. He cared less this way. He was broken and defeated, but he just didn't care.

If anyone were to see him now, he didn't know if they would recognize him. That's how much of a mess he was right now. 

As if on cue, the door opened slightly, and Harry's father slipped into the basement without being noticed by the rest of the family. 

While the door was open, Louis could make out a few words. "Muffin," "Banana," "Going to school," that was all he heard, but it was enough to extrapolate that it was morning. That means he had been here for about sixteen hours. The thought made him shiver involuntarily.

"Good morning Louis," the man said, confirming that it was indeed morning. Louis didn't respond. Instead, he stared at the blank wall in front of him, trying to avoid the man at all cost. 

A hand flew across his face, violently jerking his head to the right. "I said good morning bitch."

Louis looked up at the man but remained silent. As anxious as he was, he felt a sudden wave of confidence enveloped him. He wasn't just going to comply to whatever this man wanted. The Louis sass was coming out. 

Another slap came to his face, but he was more prepared. He held his neck still, not letting the hand turn his head. He ignored the sting on his cheek, instead, trying to suppress a chuckle that for some reason wanted to emerge. 

"Good morning bitch," the man came up closer to Louis' face, taking a short pause between the words like he was talking to a five-year-old. For some reason, Louis also found this funny. 

"Good morning," Louis spoke quietly, biting his lip slightly. "Bitch."

The small smile the older man wore quickly dropped. Louis swore he could see an angry fire light up behind his eyes. He wouldn't doubt it. With such a small brain, there had to be a decent amount of empty space back there. 

"I would watch your tone around me. May I remind you that I have all the power here?" He was trying to be calm and intimidating, Louis could tell, but he practically has smoke coming out of his ears, he was fuming so much. He suppressed another laugh by tightly pressing his thin lips together.

The man checked his watch, cursing. Louis assumed he was running late for something, probably work based on the time. 

"Let's hurry this up a little why don't we?" He reached into a small fabric bag that Louis didn't even notice the man had. He pulled out a small paring knife, one of those you used to cut up apples.