Outliers [L.S]

10

Louis' pov:

Harry had locked me in the cells for I don't know how long. It was pitch black. I had food slid in from a small door gap.

I decided quickly that I wasn't going to eat. I wanted Harry to feel bad, even though I know he didn't. Or that he would.

I sat in complete silence. I never moved. I never slept , or it felt like I never did. It was an endless darkness and the worst part is that I was left with nothing but my own thoughts.

I thought too much. I thought about everything. All it was now was thinking. Speaking to myself in my own mind. It was overwhelmingly repetitive, I felt as if I would go insane.

I thought a lot about back home for the most part. I wanted to know how it was going and if by a chance Niall had told my father about that one night. I wondered if my dad was planning a way to get me back. There was only hope left inside me, and that was barely even there.

I lay down on my side. I let the cold concrete cool me. It once again felt nice. I liked how it's smooth texture touched my cheek so gently. I suppose the only company was this concrete. I was grateful for it.

My stomach growls loudly. It's pain, and constant growling was it's way of begging me to eat. But I would refuse. I liked the emptiness I felt. It was welcoming. It was a sign that I was still alive.

I've resided many books I've read multiple times in my head.  Or more like I tried my best. The main one I resided was Night. It was a darker story about a 15 year old boy who was a Jew. It told how his and his family were taken by the nazis. He was transferred from many camps with his father. Sadly his mother and sister were separated early on, right when they got into the camps. He used the possibility of them being Alive to keep himself alive.

I pressed my palm into the concrete. I wish deeply inside me that the boy and I had the same close relationship that he had with his father. I curse myself daily for even giving a care about my father, and wishing such a thing. My father doesn't deserve to be cared for.

For the first time in a long time my mother comes to mind. My father likes to tell me about her when he isn't a raging asshole. He still loves her, and he has told me multiple times that he wished he was good enough for her. That he could give her what she deserves.

He tells me how he wishes we could have been a normal family. That he was a school teacher and she was the nurse she always dreamed about being. That I was intentionally born  and they could have raised me together happily. Maybe even have many more children. But he had made it clear that his job was what his life was. He wouldn't trade it for the world, and even my mother couldn't change that.

My usual meal slipped under the door. I sit up to glance at it. It stopped right in the pile the rest of the food I had was.

"He's coming to get you," a woman speaks from the other side of the door. I hear her quietly retreat to wherever she came from.

I push myself to my feet. The only person she could be talking about is Harry, and I wasn't letting him take me back. I would rather live in here for the rest of my life rather than wherever he wants me.

I stand for what feels like several hours. I guess I shouldn't have assumed he would come so soon. I stared at the door waiting. I listened for footsteps. But nothing came, and eventually I gave up.