Savior

The Boy That's Too Late

*TW: violence/abuse*

It is difficult to stop loving the warmth of the sun, even when that warmth has scorched your flesh raw. It is difficult to stop loving the gentle sway of the ocean, even after it pulls you under and fills your lungs with its treacherous waters.

But, it is almost impossible to stop loving the man, even after he brands your skin with his knuckles and marks your heart with his bruises.

The bee keeps going back to the honey even after he almost drowns in it. The moth finds its home in the flame even after it nearly burns him alive.

Louis was all those things to me and more –he would nearly destroy every aspect of my life and I would keep forgiving him. I enabled his actions –gave him an outlet to take his anger out on, a doormat, because he truly loved me and I loved him.

Or, so I thought.

But, standing in this darkened room now and staring into his fathomless eyes strikes me with that same feeling and I know that it was never love that kept me shackled to his prison.

It was fear. Paralyzing fear.

He takes a sure step into the pale blue light of the projector, expression twitching in impatience and strong voice raising an octave as he repeats his question, "Did you miss me, Scarlett?"

That name coming out of that mouth is all too horrifyingly familiar and it causes something inside of me to click; the entire dire situation dawning on me.

The reality of my nightmares coming to fruition before my eyes.

"Louis."

His name comes out in a breathless whisper that reveals all of the panic and dread that are building up inside of me from being in his presence after all this time. A sinister smirk finds its home on Louis' lips when he hears the vulnerability in my voice and he dares to take another step in my direction.

My survival instincts finally kick in, feet coming unglued from the dusty hardwood, stumbling back from his towering presence.

I'm caught between disbelief in this situation and terror of what it may bring.

I take in every inch of his face, not only to solidify the fact in my mind that he is actually here in front of me, but also to gauge his mental state. His sanity, his anger level.

It's hasn't yet been a year since we were last together, but there is something so different about his presence, his stare.

The same messy chestnut locks, wrinkled clothes, and permanent five-o-clock shadow. But, his hair looks like it's been ran through in every direction, his shirt is riddled in holes, and the shadow of his stubble matches the ones underneath his eyes.

Once so proud of his appearance, now he seems to have let go of that vanity.

But, his eyes... Those cerulean eyes that pulled me in so many years ago now have a glint in them that wasn't there before. A glint that has the hair on the back of my neck standing up and a chill shooting straight down my spine.

There is something unhinged in that stare.

The candid photos, the paintings, the fucking home movie only solidify the idea that this isn't his usual possessiveness. This is something much more sinister.

"What? Cat got your tongue, Scarlett?" His voice is full of venom, but the boisterous laugh that follows his question confirms my suspicions regarding Louis' mental state, "Sorry... I guess I should be calling you Layla now, huh?"