The Dark Windows

Chapter 27

Louis's POV:

I was sitting in class, the Monday after I went to the police station on Saturday. After taking half of Saturday and half of Sunday, we back tracked the blocked number that was on my phone.

All that we found out was that it was sent from this town. Other than that, he completely blocked it and made it so that you couldn't find the number or anything else. It was completely blocked except for the location.

Once I found out the location, I walked around half of the town and screamed her name. I screamed "Ally" throughout the entire neighborhood. Again I had my baseball bat in hand, and again lots of people came out and asked if I was okay. God dammit I was sick of that word.

"Okay" had become such a common phrase to me lately. It pissed me off honestly. Either way, I only made it through half the town, my hand hurting like hell along the way.

After I did that, I went to the apple store. It was about 10 at night, but I didn't care. I didn't have a warranty on my phone and I was too tired to fight with the apple genius. So, I settled and bought an iPhone 5. I had to get all my contacts back, and I had lost all my photos. Especially the ones of Ally.

Charlie and Ally would love to steal my phone and take photos of themselves on there. I would keep a few, just because it reminded me of Ally.

I remember that day she knocked on my door for help from the van. Back then I acted like it was nothing, just an idiotic thing. It's the complete opposite now. She would roll her eyes at me, and all I could even do back then was compliment her damn football.

When I drove her home that day, she looked at my phone screen. She was on it, Charlie too. She claimed she was "ugly". Hell, if I was her boyfriend back then, I would've grabbed her waist and held her tight. I would've kissed her soft lips and said, "You weren't ugly, don't ever tell yourself that."

What I really said was, "You were a hell of a princess." I should've done something bigger back then to protect her, but even just those few months ago, I was still in denial.

"Louis! Mr. Tomlinson!" My teacher yelled. I looked up at her small, pale face. She had a stern look on it, and I was almost about too punch it to be honest. "I must've said your name a dozen times! Are you going to go up and present your project, or are you just going to sit there?"

I was in English class, and our project was just too write a poem. It could be about anything really, it just had to follow the ABCB pattern.

I sighed, and stood up from my desk. I grabbed the piece of paper and walked up to the front of the class. I held the crumpled up paper in my hands, my bruised and broken hands. The paper was basically in pieces. I crumpled it up first, and then I got so mad I ripped it up a bit.

Then I realize I actually needed it, so I taped it back together. So now, it was a big mess. All eyes were on me, not a sound coming from the room. They all just stared at me, and waited.

"Louis, would you like to read now?" I cleared my throat, and held the piece of paper.

"Erm...this poem is called 'Pain'." I gulped. I didn't want to read this. I didn't want to share this with anyone. But hell, I couldn't make something up on the spot. I just looked back at the paper and sighed. Here we go.

"It only gets harder

Waking up every day

Listening to the people saying

'It'll all be okay'

I don't want to hear that

I want the truth