27 Minutes (Larry Stylinson)

Changes

Louis POV

Day 1

Leaving the hospital was a hard task. Having to say goodbye to my family and best friends, all the people I loved, was the most difficult thing I've ever done. I tried not to put up much of a fight but inside I was screaming at them not to let me go. My skin crawled at the idea of a treatment center. The words tasted bitter on my tongue and burned my lungs. I didn't want to take a step near the place but I had no choice.

Even though I'm of age the doctors order I be put into treatment. It all seems silly to me but when they start using words like suicide watch, harmful to self and others it kind of puts everything into a different perspective. I kept refusing to go and yelling at anyone who told me I had no choice. I kicked, screamed, and pushed everyone away and begging them not to make me. In my mind I was okay but in theirs they could tell I wasn't.

What made me stop was the words my mother whispered to me brokenly. She tried everything she could to calm me down but her words were no longer soothing like they use to be. Now they only held a threat to send me away and I recoiled against them. It was until she brought my sisters into the conversation and that's when I stopped.

Just thinking of their sweet faces already had me swaying. My mum shared her fears of me hurting not only myself but accidentally loosing it and hurting them one day as well. Although I knew in my heart I would never intentionally hurt them I couldn't risk any chance. I also never thought I'd attempt my to end my own life but things can change drastically within just a couple of seconds.

The hardest person to say goodbye to though was Harry. My mind screamed at me to wrap myself around him like a cocoon and never leave. I wanted to stay wrapped up in him and his scent, his arms and love, to never let go of what I knew. It had been so long since I was comforted by him or even since we had spoken to each other on our own terms. Now here I was leaving him again and I could see how much it was tearing him apart. His eyes showed a pain in them so deep that it caused my stomach to churn.

I almost brought myself to ask him to take me away. Just him and I, no one else, and certainly no treatment center. But then the images come to mind of me sitting in the bathroom with a bottle of pills in my hand.

The fuzzy yet still gut wrenchingly clear image of me shoving five, ten, twelve pills down my throat so there was no chance of me coming out of it. A sickening feeling in my stomach of wanting to throw it all up but yet forcing myself to keep it down. All of those images of me turning the water on and laying down in it waiting for the pills to lull me into a never ending sleep.

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Week 1

This is complete and utter fucking bullshit. They treat me like I'm completely insane! I can't go somewhere without someone watching me, I can't even take a piss alone. They're always watching, always breathing down my fucking neck, never giving me any space.

"You're to at risk to hurt yourself, Louis."

"It's just a precaution, Louis."

A precaution for what? It's not like I can get my hands on anything in here to be able to fucking hurt anyone anyways. I've looked for ways to get out of here, I've looked for ways to take all this frustration out on myself. There's nothing, no pills, no blades, nothing. I'm fucking sick of it already.

I keep writing to everyone back at home, keep calling, sending letters and telling them to get me out. I beg them to let me come home but each time I receive a reply I get the same goddamn answers of "Its what's best for you.", how the hell would you know if you aren't here with me?