the model

twenty seven

A/N: this chapter talks about drugs and has a bit of violence. It's also a really long chapter.

I stood behind Louis, who was frozen in place. Staring forward, straight into this womans bloodshot eyes. 'Jackie,' as she was called, had one hand on her hip. She was eyeballing Louis, not up down to size him up but only on his face. I watched her eyes do zig zags on Louis' face, trying to catch his eyes.

"Well, shit, Tommo. You going to look me in the eyes or not?" Her sudden voice scared me and Louis. Jackie let out a snicker as she saw us jump in our place.

Behind Louis, I felt him tense up underneath my fingers. I didn't even notice that I placed my hands on his shoulders. He stood up taller, straightening his back. He pushed back his shoulders, causing his chest to be high. I could see the side of his face a little better now.

His eyebrows were tightly meshed together, tiny lumps being formed between the two. Underneath them, his eyes were dark and filled with a sort of disgust mixed with anger. His breathing fastened, sharp breaths were audible as they escaped his nose. Looking down, I saw his fingers tapping, dancing against his leg. Trying to keep them busy.

I've seen Louis mad, but I've never seen him this type of mad.

"How'd she get in?" I whispered to myself, remembering that the door was locked because I locked it myself.

"I gave her a key long ago and forgot about it." Louis whispered back, swearing at himself under his breath. He thought I couldn't hear but I did, apparently so did Jackie. "You're not an idiot, Lou. You're just not the bright." She smiled sweetly, but the type that wasn't genuine. The one that showed that she intended to hurt you.

"Who's the girl?" Jackie walked past me, nudging my shoulder. I turned to look at her walk away, she turned and gave me a wink. Her mouth agape, a smile faintly noticeable. Louis was still facing the door, his breathing shallow. I moved so I was in front of him.

Looking him the eyes, I found his eyes on me but they weren't staring at me. He was looking through me. His eyebrows still knitted together, his lips pursed into a very fine line, and his hands were now balls. They weren't dancing along the fabric of his pants.

"She's high." I heard a whisper. I looked behind Louis, no one was there. I looked at him. It can't be him, he has barely moved and he's as pale as a ghost, I thought. "What?" I tested.

"She's high." The whisper came again, more louder now. But as I stared at Louis, I couldn't tell if it was him. His lips didn't move and it didn't sound like him. "She's high." The whisper became a low, hushed voice.

"Is that you?" I placed my hands on the sides of his face, his face was clammy beneath my touch. I felt his face shift up and down, nodding. "You have to speak up, Louis. If anything happens while she's here and you're talking like this then I won't know what's happening because you're so low, okay?" I babbled on. My nerves were getting to me.

I remember when my brothers were still alive. How they would come into my room high as fuck. They were always gentle around me, making sure I was alright and that I was comfortable and that I was happy. Other times, it wasn't so gentle. The days were they would visit when they've done too much was the worst. The days where their eyes were wide, bloodshot, and racing all over the place. The days were their clothes didn't match and their skin was pale as flour.

They would come in yelling, demanding me to give them my things. They would grab stuff off my dresser, of the wall, anything they could get their hands off and threw it everywhere. Millions of tiny pieces flying around my room while I was curled up under my blanket, silently praying that they would just leave.