Silenced- A Larry Stylinson Story

Chapter 12- POV Louis: A Broken Mind

I am in English class when my phone buzzes from my pocket. I look at it. Harry Styles. Seeing his name, I still get butterflies. I decline the call, since I'm in class and I will see him in a few minutes. My phone buzzes again. Another call from Harry. I ask to use the bathroom and pick up the phone, annoyed.

"Harry? Why are you calling me? You know school ends in five minutes, right?" I can hear wheezing and gasping on the other end of the line. "Harry?" He doesn't answer. Just more heavy breathing and a bit of whimpering. "What's wrong, Harry?"

"Lou," He finally responds, sounding panicked. "Help m- me. I can't breathe." His statement is followed by a sob. "Please." I can hear the fear in his voice.

"Where are you?" I ask hurriedly.

"Um- I- I'm in a second floor janitor's closet. Hurry." He whispers, almost as if he is in pain. I take off. Left, then left again, right, and up a flight of stairs. Now which closet could he be in? I sprint around another corner and crash into a large, chubby figure. I slowly look up. It's Mr. Reinolds, the principal. Just my luck.

"Mr. Tomlinson. You shouldn't be running." He begins. "Where's the fire?" He asks with a chuckle.

"I- I am so sorry, sir. I just really need to use the bathroom." He nods, somewhat skeptical, and watches as I take off again, this time a bit slower.

Eventually, I find a janitor's closet. It's locked. I can hear someone fumbling with the lock, and the door swings open.

Sitting there, in the janitor's closet, with a bloody nose, crying and shaking, is Harry. I gasp at the sight of him.

He is curled up against the wall in a fetus position. Blood is dripping down his nose, which looks crooked and has started bruising. He has one hand placed over his heart and another curled around his stomach. His whole body is wildly trembling, and he is sobbing uncontrollably.

He's murmuring, "I'm a freak, I'm a freak, I'm a freak," over and over again, and my eyes sting with tears at the sound. His hair is almost completely soaked from sweat, and his eyes are squeezed shut with a force I didn't know eyelids possessed.

I never knew someone could be such a mess, yet so beautifully perfect all at the same time.

"Oh, Haz." I coo, heartbroken and with sympathy. I climb into the closet and pull him into my arms. He winces and places his head on my shoulder, sobbing, and continues to murmur, "I'm a freak." continually.

"No, baby, you're not a freak. It's okay. You're okay, Haz." I try my best to console him. I sit there, in the janitors closet, holding his limp, trembling figure in my arms, kissing the top of his head, and trying to comfort him.

After a long while, his trembling subsides and I can feel his heart rate slow down through my hand placed on his chest. His eyes are still closed, but with much less force. He looks so, so exhausted, and I let him nod off peacefully in my arms.

Still cradling him, I let ourselves out of the dark janitor's closet and look both ways. The hallways are empty; it has been nearly an hour since school ended. I hear a noise and look down to realize that Harry is giggling in my arms. I stare at him, confused.

"You just came out of the closet." He whispers charmingly into my ear. I throw my head back and laugh, causing his eyes to crinkle at the edges and his mouth to curl up lazily at the corners.

"You're funny." I tell him. "Now go back to sleep, love." He nods and is fast asleep in two seconds time. I am so focused on keeping Harry comfortable in my arms as I walk that I don't notice the familiar blonde figure approaching me until he says,

"Louis?" and scares me so bad I nearly drop Harry.

"Niall!" I exclaim quietly and gesture down to Harry with my eyes, so as to explain the quiet voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I had a teacher meeting," He whispers back and looks at Harry. "What happened to him?"

"He's had a rough day." I explain without giving too much away. Niall and I walk outside together, and he keeps an eye out for anyone who might be roaming around school grounds. Just as we reach my truck, I realize something. I can't take Harry home like this- he wouldn't want me to scare his mom- but I can't take him to my house either- the girls would be terrified by his limp, bruised figure. I turn to face Niall, who offers to bring us to his house. I accept his offer gratefully.

I let Niall drive my truck to his house, since I don't want to let go of Harry.

He looks so innocent and utterly exhausted in my arms, and it makes me want to protect him from everything bad in the world. Even asleep, with his eyes red and puffy from crying, hair slick with sweat, nose bruised and bleeding, he is still the most beautiful person I have ever seen. I stare down at him in wonder the whole ride to Niall's house, which happens to be only three houses down from Harry's.

Niall unlocks the door and lets us inside his home, which is a medium-sized light blue cape with a nicely landscaped front yard. I gently lay Harry on the soft tan couch while Niall fetches bandages.

Stroking his damp hair, I plant a loving kiss on Harry's cheek. I feel so bad for him. What has he done to deserve this? I feel a bubbly wetness forming behind my eyelids, and though I try hard to blink it back, a tear escapes and dribbles down my face. I wipe it away quickly. It's so hard for me to see Harry like this; it pains me to my core.

Niall comes back with the bandages, and we do our best to clean Harry up, wiping the blood off his face and placing a cold compress over his *now purple* nose. He stirs and his eyelashes bat a little, but he stays asleep. I place a soft blanket over him, pull a chair up and watch him sleep, intertwining my fingers, a nervous habit of mine.

I sit there, gazing at him in confusion and fascination, for hours. 

It reminds me closely of four years ago, when my mom had brought the twins home from the hospital. My dad had just left her a few hours before, and my mom was an emotional mess. She only did what was required of her- work, clean, cook, ensure her children were safe and fed- and she did it all in numbness.

Everything she did was done with a straight face, never a smile- or even a frown, for that matter. She was remarkably comparable to a robot. No emotion was shown from her for months, until one day she had had a breakthrough. I had no idea what it was, but one average day I came home from school and she was normal again- happy.

However, while she was in her robotic state, I frequently watched over the girls. She would lock herself in her bedroom and sit there, silently, still as a statue, leaving her children to roam free in the house. I was only twelve, but I was forced to take responsibility and ensure the two oldest girls would not get into trouble. The twins were newborns, and I remember placing them next to each other in their crib at night- we could only afford one crib- and watching them sleep. Their tiny noses and even smaller eyes were so tranquil and composed.

Each night, I would sit in their room for hours and admire their tiny features, wondering how my mom could be so sad, having them in her life. They were so... perfect. And helpless. And I vowed in those terrible months that I would always protect my sisters.

Here I am now, four years later, watching Harry sleep- so innocent, and so incredibly lonely. I never want to see him in pain again.

I long to protect him with everything I possess, but I know there is no way I can do that. I can't follow him everywhere, whispering in his ear that he is amazing, or scare away anyone that tries to hurt him, like I so desperately want to.

Knowing this, I feel an overwhelming sense of impotence, and it scares me beyond belief.

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