Half Bad //l.s

Chapter 17

*dedicated to hsltlovee :) *

♡ chapter 17 - Harry ♡

"Where the fuck is he?"

I hadn't intended for those to be the first words leaving my lips, but seeing Louis so torn pissed me off to the fullest. Seething would be an understatement to describe my utter anger coursing my veins at the moment, my nails leaving indentions in my palms from squeezing my fists so tight. I wasn't sure how to describe this irate ordeal, but it was making my entire body tremble the more I thought about Marcus laying a single hand on him. If he was going to die before, he's going to be six feet under now.

His bottom lip was split down the middle, a bruise lining his jaw with a slight purple-ish tint to portray it was just created. Stray twigs sprouted from his hair, looking as if he had escaped and ran through the woods like a wild man trying to reach safety. Various cuts slashed across both arms and legs, only conjuring a bloodier mess than when he first tumbled through the door.

Finally gathering the little senses I contained with all this aggression, I walked over to him. For a moment I hesitated on touching him, until I remembered he stupidly took off his bracelet just to make out with me. That's not to say I didn't enjoy it, but it's the whole reason he got snatched from me in the first place. I'd rather stick with the pain of never holding him instead of the pain of him never being with me at all.

"Are you all right, Louis? What happened?" I asked as I gently grabbed his upper arm, helping him to his feet. My eyes darted to the boys dumbly standing around, wide-eyed and clueless. "Don't just fucking stand there, get him some water or something," I snapped angrily, and they each scurried off to do a random task.

Louis leaned into me as we hobbled to the couch, his touch oddly numb instead of the fiery feeling I had felt when he first made physical contact with me. But I tried not to relish on that pointless thought at the moment, especially since my beauty was half dead in my arms.

"What happened?" I asked him again, much softer this time as he sat on the couch, slumping back against the arm.

His  eyes closed, his breaths still coming out in ragged pants as he held one hand to his chest, the other to his forehead. "H-he got me," he breathed out hoarsely, his  voice sounding increasingly scratchy and high.

My eyebrows pinched together. "I understand that, Louis. But what the hell did he do to make you look like.. this?"

Louis didn't reply.

My shaking hands from my enraged state heaved in frustration through my hair, my heart pounding fiercely against my ribcage, my imagination getting the best of me as I pictured all the sickening things he could've done to him. Beating him would be one thing, but taking advantage of him  would be an extreme scenario I don't want to think about or else I'll go ape shit on this entire household.

Jessie came back into the room, a wet rag and cup of water in his hands. "Here you go, Louis. Drink it slow."

Louis weakly sat up, his dried bloody lips taking small sips as he let out a relieved sigh, placing the rag on his forehead. I watched him carefully, my eyebrows pulled together as I tried to depict why he was hardly speaking. Perhaps it's just the shock of everything that had occurred to him, or maybe he truly is just flat out exhausted. But to see him so silent was strange, not to mention worrying me even more. It's highly unlike him to shut that beautiful mouth.