Louis was there, outside her window, standing there, admiring his beloved pocket knife.
"W-what are you doing here!?" She yelled at him.
"I just wanted to talk to you." He snapped the knife shut and slid it back into his pocket.
"About what? What could you possibly want to talk to me about?"
"I know about them."
"About who?" Emonalee spat at him rather fiercely.
"The voices. In your head."
Now not only did Louis ignore Emonalee, he hated her. He hated her with everything he had. Or so she thought.
"I watch you Emonalee. I watch you closely. Every day for the past six years. I just now figured out why you harm yourself!"
"But, It could have been anything! Depression, Anxiety, lack of love from my family, my only love hating me with everything he has, how did you it was little voices that only I can hear?" At this point, she was so confused, that she didn't know what to do.
"Look, I didn't know about them until last night. And the reason why," he pulled up the sleeves on his leather jacket, revealing long, deep cuts along his wrists, "I have voices in my head too." Emonalee couldn't believe it. All this time, they were both, what people would call, screwed in the mind.
"The point is," he slid his sleeves back down, "I have voices in my head controlling my thoughts, telling me to hurt people, that's why I'm in that gang. Because I need a comfort. Well that is my comfort, fighting, hurting people, making people feel small. I love it because it gives me a thrill and it keeps the voices happy. I've been hurting people so much, the voices have been quiet. I used to be much worse. I used to sit on the floor, in the middle of the room and yell at the top of my voice just to drown out the voices. But they wouldn't go away. They still haven't." He shook his head and looked down at the floor. A tear rolled down Emonalee's cheek as she watched him.
"My voices tell me to hurt people too. But I never will. I'd rather kill myself than hurt any of my friends." Her voice began to crack.
"I'd rather kill myself than deal with the people I have to." His voice was deep and raspy. Almost like a voice of great pain.
"So why did you come to me?" She asked him.
"To ask you how you deal with this. These voices. The self-harming, the cutting, the stress, the pain. Don't you just want to scream on the inside?"
"On the inside, I am screaming."
"Why?"
"My family, my friends, these voices, my boyfriend, my father, my- just everything. Everything that goes on in my life makes me feel more and more worthless each day. And I'm sick of it."
"I'll make a deal with you. If you help me through this, I'll help you through it as well."
"Well-" Emonalee started but quickly stopped herself, did he really want to help her through all of this?
"Please Emonalee. It would really help us both."
"You got yourself a deal." They shook hands and as soon as their hands touched, it was like a sudden jolt of electricity. They both pulled away and looked at their hands very confused.
"Oh yeah, and by the way," Louis said as he got up from the edge of her bed, "Don't let anyone know that I have voices as well."
"Deal."
"Good." He slid open the window and climbed out of it. She ran to the window and looked outside. When she closed the window and the curtains, she heard the roaring of a motorbike engine. Then it revved up and faded into the distance. How in the hell was she going to keep quiet about this? Especially to Randy. Oh yeah, I must have forgotten, Randy Travie was Emonalee's boyfriend of four years, he was dominant and abusive and he was very vocal about it. She loved the bond they had, but she hated the way he treated her. He was the other leader of that gang I told you about earlier. So, basically, Randy was the vice leader. Louis being the leader. Now, you see, Randy only wanted Emonalee as his girlfriend, so that Louis couldn't have her. Because nobody except the gang knew that Louis loved her to death. Randy didn't want it to happen, ever. So, he went and asked her to be his. She, not knowing about Louis, said yes.
"Worst thing I've ever done.." She whispered to the air.
