Stockholm Syndrome || L.S. ||

7

Unedited
-Louis-

"Actually, yes, there is some stuff I wanted to talk to you about," Louis explained and cleared his throat. He took a drink of his tea which was a bit too hot and burned his throat, but he took another sip anyway.

It didn't taste as good as when he would make it himself, or when his mum would make it. She knows just how he likes it. But it would do for now. Chances are, he'd never come back here anyway.

His grandmother was staring at him intently, waiting for him to continue.

That was another thing he loved about her. She was a fantastic listener. Louis can recall coming to her for countless problems he had when he was younger, all of which seem silly now. It was small stuff like Lottie had knocked down his toy tower that he build out of blocks, or Phoebe spit up on his favorite football jersey.

Oh, how Louis would love to have those problems instead of his current ones.

"I actually wanted to ask you some questions about our family business," Louis said cautiously, not sure if the reaction he would get out of his elder. He needed to pick his words very carefully so nothing came across as offensive or anything of the sorts. The very last thing he wanted to do was offend his grandmother.

Margaret cleared her throat and any words Louis was about to say died in his mouth.

"I can't I'm surprised you're asking. I knew you would ask eventually," she said just as slow as he had. There was a pause after her sentence, but Louis just waited for her to continue, knowing that there'd be more she wanted to say before he said anything else.

"What brought this on?" She asked and picked at a scone that was on the white ceramic plate in front of the two of them.
"Um, Dad has just been really sketchy lately. He's been leaving after dinner and not coming back until three, four or even five in the morning. and..." he started, but stopped right before his last sentence.

It was about Mark coming home the night previously, obviously high on something. Maybe even multiple things, and with a gun in his hand. Something had to be up, who comes home high with a gun for no reason? Louis couldn't think of anyone.

"And..." Margaret repeated, urging her eldest grandson to continue his sentence. She knew what this was about and she knew why Louis was being cautious, but she knew it all. Her husband had done the same thing.

"And last night—" he sipped his tea again, it suddenly became very bland—"I caught him coming home high, and he had a gun in his hand. Surely, he would have a gun out if he didn't use it, right? So what did he use it for? Why was he high? Who gave him the drugs? How often—"

He was cut off by his grandmothers small hand going up, signaling for him to stop talking so she could explain.

"I knew this was bound to happen. Of course he became less careful around you, as you're the next one to take over. But I get why you feel the way you do," she started and Louis waited impatiently for her to start speaking again. His fancy, black shoes tapped the ground with anxiety, and his fingers drummed lightly on the table.

"I probably shouldn't be the one to tell you, but clearly your father has neglected to do so. Let me start off by saying this," she paused for a second and then continued. "this was been the way of our family for generations. Your great-grandfather did his, his father did this, his father did this and so on and so forth. This has always been the way things were ran here. It's how the Tomlinson's got all the money. But it's not something to be proud of. At least, if you're normal. I have a feeling you'll be one of the normal ones."

Normal? What did that mean? Proud of what? What has his father and grand father and great-grandfather and all his ancestors been doing? Why is Louis different?

Margaret could see the wheels spinning in Louis' head as he tried to figure out what was coming next, but he never found a conclusion that made any sense to him. She knew that he would be confused at first, anybody would be, so she needed to explain before he got too ahead of himself.

"Your father is part of a gang," she said suddenly, her voice dropping down to a whisper. Louis stomach fell to his feet and suddenly he didn't want his tea or the scones anymore. "But let's not call it a gang, let's call it a group."

"This group is called Gang X, it's always been called that, always will be called that. They weren't very creative back in the day. But at least it's not something weird like Syco. That was an option, but they decided to go with Gang X," she explained and smiled a little bit at her own joke.

Louis wasn't in the mood to smile or laugh. He honestly felt like crying or throwing up or both. He couldn't even form words at the moment, and his grandma seemed to know that. She continued on with her explanation.

"The things this group does...they aren't good. Your father and everyone before him has been involved in several drug trades and shady deals of the sort. They go out at night and get drugs from dealers, take some themselves and then continue to sell or trade it with other people. All of this is illegal, of course. This is how our family has obtained all of our money," she explained quickly, her voice still at a level so quiet that Louis had to lean in closer, or else he may not have heard her at all.

"He is involved in several drug chains all around the country sending drugs to Liverpool, Cambridge, even as far as Inverness," she listed off, Louis felt even more sick, if that was even possible. "Now, as for the gun. They have been used for many reasons. From just threatening someone to even going as far to shooting them. Sometimes shooting them in a fatal artery or organ."

His father, Mark Tomlinson, the man he's known his whole life, has killed someone. Louis suddenly felt very light headed and faint. He could feel the color drain from his face and he lost all feeling in his fingers and toes.

"I...um...I need a second," Louis spluttered out breathlessly. His grandmother nodded, understanding why and how he was feeling.

If they had been inside somewhere, Louis would've excused himself to head outside for a breath of fresh air, but since they were already outside, Louis felt trapped. He struggled to suck in a solid breath without exhaling it back out again.

He stood up after excusing himself and headed out of the patio area. Louis wasn't sure where he was going, but he needed a second to himself.

His mind was racing, but only one question stood out to him like a sunflower in a sea of roses.

What did this mean for him?

this one is a bit shorter since it's a a lot of dialogue. i hope it's not confusing either lol, i'm just winging it really. but you'll find out more later. hope you enjoyed it!