Stockholm Syndrome || L.S. ||

10

unedited

-Louis-

Louis hardly fell asleep that night. The only reason he could was from the stressful day he had previously, which made him rather exhausted, despite the nap he had. Louis couldn't stop thinking. Thinking about his father, about his future with his family, about the boy. Mostly about the boy though.

The look on his was imprinted in Louis' brain like a bad tattoo that he got on accident while under the influence. It won't go away. His eyes, shining from the tears, stuck out the most though. They were so bright, but at the same time, they were so clouded over and dull. They were, no doubt, tinted with the fear Louis was one hundred percent sure was running through his veins.

Louis wanted to scoop the boy up in his arms and whisk him away to safety, like a knight saving a damsel in distress. He didn't know why he felt such a connection to the boy, Louis didn't even know who he was. He just assumed it was because of the situation, the fact that his own father had kidnapped him and was planning on doing God-knows-what with him. He felt bad, almost like it was his fault. He felt the need to apologize to the boy for his father's doings, even though it wasn't his fault and he took no part. But his father ripped the boy away from his home, from his school, from his family. Louis couldn't imagine that happening to him. As much as they annoyed him sometimes, Louis can't live without his sisters and he couldn't imagine his life without his mum. They were his rocks. His father, on the other hand, could get lost on the way home for a while and Louis wouldn't really mind. Especially now, after his father took the boy and would probably end up hurting or killing him, if Louis had to take a guess. Louis would be okay if his father went away for a while.

It hits him like a ton of bricks. Like he is flying and his wings break, he's plummeting towards the ground at a terribly fast speed and he's heading straight towards the concrete. And suddenly he can't breathe.

His father, Mark Tomlinson, was probably planning to hurt the small boy that was probably locked up and freezing in his basement. Surely the boy had seen something he shouldn't have and his father had felt threatened and decided to do something about it. Surely, the boy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and somehow ended up here, locked in the tornado shelter of a mansion awaiting his death or some sort of beatings. Louis couldn't let that happen.

Louis really didn't know what his father was capable of. He thought he did, but after everything he learned that day, now he wasn't so sure.

But now that he knows the kind of stuff his father does, he also knows that he doesn't want any part of it. Drugs and murder? No thank you, not really Louis' thing. He likes football and listening to music and watching movies with his sisters and baking with his mother. This wasn't the life for him and he was going to fight it tooth and nail until he could do what he wants.

And now he had something, or someone else to fight for. The small boy in his basement, who has so much life left to live. Louis would be damned if he was going to let his father take that away from him.

So, at the early hour of five in the morning, Louis rolls out of bed and makes his way across his fairly large room to the door. He only had gotten a few hours of sleep, but his nap from earlier kept him from being too terribly tired.

Louis thought about what he was doing at that moment, as he walked from his room and down the large staircase, making his way silently towards the basement. He wasn't exactly sure what his goal was, but he wanted to do something to help the boy. He was careful to be extra quiet as to not wake up his sleeping family. He heard them argue late into the night, so he was pretty certain they would be sleeping like a rock, but better safe than sorry.