The Struggle •Unedited•

Chapter 17

With New York's bi-polar weather and those lying fucks at the weather station, they said this was definitely the last big cold front we were going to experience. As much as I loved dressing in winter clothes, I'm glad spring was under way. Last night was something else. Louis and I are friends again, I guess. I learned about his life. It's sad, but he is trying his best, so much respect to him.

Currently. it's 3 o' clock in the afternoon and I'm in the parking lot of Louis' apartment. I usually don't get out until 9, but I went in early with Liam. I told him about Landon, and obviously, I was lectured about how he's a fucking asshole and how he would beat the living shit out of him.

Good news, as well. I was able to get Louis the job at the office, but as a janitor, which is why I'm here. The job is a lot more dainty then I originally planned. I couldn't get him into a lower field receptionist, but hey, a job's a job. I doubt he'll turn it down,

My flats clattered with the metal stairs as I climbed up the outdoor staircase, leading up to Louis' door. The wind was stinging on my skin as I tried my best to shield it away from my face using the trench coat I wore. Just a couple of more steps and I'd reach the top.

"You are an annoying little brat!" A high pitched voice screeched, "Do you realize what mess you made in my car?!"

I froze on one of the steps. That irritating voice belonged to the queen bitch herself. Kelsey. Who the hell is she talking to? Trying to ignore the freezing, subzero weather, I quietly continue the route up the stairs, trying to stay hidden and unnoticed. Soon enough, my eyes pop over the floor of the second story and she's visible in all her pink, track suit glory.

Mason's with her.

"Stop giving me that damn pout!" she continues shouting as she struggles to find, what I assume, is to be her house keys.

Louis' adorable son is standing there shivering. Why the fuck isn't he wearing a jacket? That little lip is starting to quiver. She was obviously yelling at him.

"But-but-but, I didn't mean it," he squeaked, "It-it- it was an accid-"

Just then, her skinny hand comes flying across his small, delicate face. The contact of skin to skin echoes loudly and the toddler starts to sob.

My breath is knocked out of me from shock. Did she really just hit the kid straight on the face?

It takes about only a millisecond for me to react. The anger quickly boils my blood and I stomp up the remaining stairs loudly. Both of their bodies turn to face me and she looks scared.

"Did you seriously just hit him? What the fuck is your problem?" I shout enraged.

Even before the abuser could answer, Mason scrambled to my side and hid behind my legs. Even over the cold, loud winds, his crying was very audible.

"Why isn't he wearing a jacket?! It's freezing! He could get sick!"

With her body language, I could tell this is no problem to her. Those devilish eyes roll and she scoffs.

"Oh, boo hoo," her tone drips of sarcasm, "He spilled his stupid juice box in my car! He had to be disciplined,"

I can't help but look at her in disbelief. This girl is a whole other level of stupid, falling just in front of her naive boyfriend.

"He's a fucking kid! He didn't mean it! Shit happens. Even if he did need to be yelled at, you had no right to hit him. He isn't yours!"

My leg is skittering as Mason's cold body bumps against it. I reach down and scoop him into my arms and snuggle him under my long coat.