Strawberry Ice cream

Chapter 8

Tw// Self harm

We're all in the practice room again, doing a cover as practice for the contest. Harry and I are currently lying on the floor, Niall's eating crisps whilst playing on the piano and Liam and Zayn are seeing who can do the highest note- so far Zayn's winning. 

My phone flashes Mark-dad and that same panic from the last time he called swarms over me. I call Zayn over and hand him the phone. 

"I don't want to answer," I explain when he takes the phone. He goes to the corner of the room and answers it. 

"How come you don't want to answer the phone?" Harry questions, moving closer to me. 

"Because one of these days it could be that phone call about my mum and I'm not ready for that."

Zayn hangs up, hands me the phone. "It's your mum," He says quietly and my whole body goes numb. 

Dead, dead, dead, dead.

"She's been taken to hospital for further treatment early because she had a set back earlier. Your dad just wanted to know if you're okay looking after the girls later as he's got over time and wants to see your mum."

My mouth is like sandpaper and all I can do is nod. Harry finds my hand and squeezes it. I check the time and numbly get up. "I've got media now." Is all I say, swinging my bag over my shoulder and walking out the room. My mind is fuzzy as I take myself to the media block and for my lesson. 

...

In media, I barely concentrate, hoping the numbness and fear would go away. I leave the classroom, needing to do something other than sit in my own thoughts. I pratically jog down the hall, not paying attention where I'm going when I collide hard into someone. 

"Oi, faggot, watch it!" Ashton yells, grabbing me by my brace and pinning me against the wall. "You're such a waste of space, I've been meaning to find you. Somehow, Harry won't be friends with me no more since you came around." 

I shy my face away. "Leave me alone," I quietly peep. 

His fist connects with my jaw, it instantly begins to throb and it feels good being able to feel something again. I don't block any blow as he kicks, hits and punches me in my face and stomach. "You deserve to die." He spits on me. 

Tears brim my eyes, part of me wants him to stop but I'm too tired to try. Someone shouts at him to stop and he lets go of me, seeing one of the teachers strolling down the hall towards him, her heels clicking on the floor. 

"Head, now!" She shrieks, she lowers beside me. "Louis, you okay hon?" I shake my head, no but brush her off me, running to my car. 

I sit in the car, seat belt on though I'm still parked. I unravel the leather from my wrist and begin digging my nails into the flesh, scratching over and over until the skin breaks and wells with dots of blood. Tears run down my cheeks and I continue hurting myself, hitting my head against the steering wheel to add to the bruising Ashton already gave me. 

A knock on the glass startles me, I snap my head up but no one is there. The passenger door opens and closes and I'm attacked by the scent of cedar wood. He hauls me into his side, pinning my arms down to stop me from hurting myself anymore. 

"How- d-did you know I-I was here?" I sob, my knuckles turning white from gripping onto his black t-shirt with a graffiti can on the chest.

"Lesson finished early, went to your class to wait for you but you weren't there. Figured you'd be here but not doing this to yourself, Louis, I thought you stopped." He cradles my head into his chest, patting my hair down.