the emptiness :: l.s.

Part Three: It Was Your Poison Kiss That Turned Me Into This

"Oops!" the smaller boy announced far down from me, after his face had been conviently bumped into my chest.

I only saw a head of short, feathery hair and a woozy face. I raised my hand, waving it around, grimacing. "Hi." I said. "I'm Harry."

~*~

I don't know for exact how long I've been running, but it's been far enough to find unfamiliar buildings and cars, no people to be roaming as I am. I don't even know why I came so far, but I do know that I needed, I craved, to leave the house that has now been filled with Louis' smell. Not the retched stench that soon replaced the sweet scent, but the beautiful strawberry that filled his mussy and tousled hair. It was being caught in my brain, tugging at my emotions, dragging them every which way. Tears continued streaming down my reddened face, rain soaking it even more.

I just don't understand, still. There's no sense to the situation. No pieces to the unsolved puzzle. I can't find myself holding the very knife that killed my beauty. I can't imagine my arm being forced up and down, the knife puncturing and cleaving into his stomach, over and over until his last breath had finally came. It doesn't recognize inside my brain. I can't clasp the memory. The only images that I find myself seeing is kissing Louis and him falling asleep in my arms as I sniffed the sweet, yet tangy, smell that filled him, sending shivers down my spine.

All I can hear is his voice, whispers stinging my eardrums and his lips grazing my cheek. All I can see is his face in the reflections of windows upon shops and vehicles. "Why?" is all I can think. Just why? And how? How could my gorgeous BooBear be dead? It's finally sunk into my mind that I will never be able to actually hold him. I can see his haunting image, I can hear his voice. But I can't feel him. I can't touch him. I can't hold him. And most of all:

I can't love him.

The saccharine voice I once knew is now dead, lifeless, monotoned. It's as if it's not even Louis. As if some soul had replaced his grace and took the life out of him. I just want him to stop. I want him to leave me alone. He's making me crazy, completely and utterly insane. He can't proceed to leave me this way. This psycho that I don't know. This person that isn't me. I've changed completely since he's left, and it's not even a full 24 hours, since it's happened.

And for once, realization has taken over, memories of times he loved me too much to the point of going mad, deranged, senseless. Shall I say it? Shall I speak the truth? The truth that will only cause more pain? Should I tell, not only him, but myself the honest truth?

Here it goes.

This is your fault, Louis William Tomlinson. You're the reason you're dead. You made me this way and now I can't hold it in. Do you see what you've caused? Loneliness, sadness, retched pain that scratches the lining of my scalp, a hand clasping the pits of my unbeating, aching heart that will only bleed the love I crave. Do you see what's happened because of you? I'm going mad, can't you understand?

Leave me the fuck alone.

A you're satisfied?