Wrists to Hold // Louis Tomlinson

two

*trigger warning. It's very slight, because even I get uncomfortable writing this, but please take heed and if you need anything/anyone please let me know in the comments or something*

two.

"Witness Louis Tomlinson. Please take a stand."

He came up, staring at me in my orange jumpsuit, silver handcuffs hiding only a fraction of my wounds.

He spoke softly, making my body tremble without it knowing.

I did not like to do my deed at school. I hated cleaning up my own blood from the bathroom tiles and praying no one would come in as I rinsed, washed, repeat, and rinsed, washed, repeat, until I ran dry, my fountains no longer flowing. I hated sitting in my next period class, laughing and smiling as if nothing went down in the ladies room before.

I did not intend to get caught, you see, I am always very careful. I have learned how the bathroom doors locked and I know that fourth period is my happy hour. The bar is cleared. It is only me and my date within the bathroom walls.

But sometimes I get so restless. I squirm and pick and bite and tear my nails as my foot taps against the floor until finally, I raise my hand, careful not to show too much, and whisper, "May I use the restroom?"

That was when the doors unlocked, the gates were open, and I was free to do the only thing that could make my body feel numb.

The slightest thing got me off that day. I heard whispers. Whispers behind me, whispers in my ear that were coming from the hot pink lips of Victoria Wilde. The same hot pink lips that had tasted every boy around here, except for one.

Louis Tomlinson had never kissed her deceitful lips. He never even looked her in the eye.

The whispers were not about me, but my reasoning skills went awry and soon I was convinced they were speaking of my dull hair that never seemed to bounce or my "old fashioned" attire (because I'm so sorry you can't see my crotch Monday thru Friday, boys) or my sad excuse of makeup.

So I ran out of the room with tears prickled at my eyes.

I moved with quick precision, slamming the bathroom door and locking it shut. I pulled out my blades and without missing a beat, I brought them to my skin.

My eyes were clouded with red, my vision hazy yet euphoric as I rushed to grab paper towels to stop it all.

I then stood in front of the sink, a stranger looking back at me. She met my tired, puffy eyes, and looked away, ashamed of her own reflection.

The sink was a pool of red, but at least I felt clean. My wounds dried and I picked up my makeup bag, adding mascara and eyeliner before looking at my reflection.

I took pride in my "Half Dead" look. Hair disheveled, pale cheeks, cracked lips, wide eyes. I had grown so used to it.

I was almost home free. All I had to do was get back to class. My velvet red sweater kept me warm as I meandered through the halls. I walked past my locker when suddenly, I was cornered against it.

"What the heck is your problem?" I yelled, my voice hoarse and scratchy. I cleared my throat, trying to be brave, but he saw right through me.

"I would ask you the same, but I know the problem already." He sneers, left arm right beside my ear as I swallow all that is left in my mouth.

"I don't know what you're talking - "

"You're always in the halls at this time." He accuses me. "Always." His arm slowly moves away from my ear and his lips pull back into a thin line. "You're always rushing to the bathroom as if you made a deal with the devil that you couldn't keep."

Because I have. I whisper, tears welling up, but I hold them back to put on a show.

"Louis Tomlinson." I whisper, getting a good look at his tan skin, slightly messy hair, and pretty eyes. "W-What do you want?"

"I'm not out to get you." He hums. "In fact, I'll keep your little secret."

"What secret? I have nothing to hide."

"Wrists up." He says nonchalantly.

I keep them at my side.

"Thought so, Robyn."

I choke on my pride, not willing to swallow it. "You know nothing about me so quit acting so smug."

He sort of laughs, a dark chuckle. "I know what you do in the bathroom almost every other day at fourth period."

"Do you follow me?" I whisper.

"No." He runs a hand through his hair.

I laugh under my breath. "You follow me."

"N-No. This is my study hall."

And that's all he says, as if I can make a conclusion just by hearing those words.

My pride slowly rolls down my throat, and I fight to swallow it.

"Don't tell. Don't tell a soul." I whisper, a small tear rolling down my cheek. Nerves twitch inside me as I grit my teeth. "If you do, I swear I will kill you!"

Louis flinches as I bite my lip.

"I-It's only because - " I trail off again.

"I get it." He says, putting his hands up and taking a step back. "We all have a deep dark secret."

"I'm not a bad person." I find myself saying, but I can't bring myself to believe it either.

"I never said you were." He sort of smiles with his eyes, though his lips do not move. It puzzles me. He is extremely hard to read.

We don't say anymore. I wonder if our groundbreaking scene of our first encounter is over, but there is no director to say "scene" so our universes still collide in the midst of these bare halls.

I look down at my shoes as he clears his throat.

"I need to get back to -"

"Hey." He stops me. He is rather bold.

"What?"

"If I see you in these halls again, it better be to visit me and not to go into that bathroom."

I just smile sadly. I would not give him false hope. I know the taste of that bitter concoction. I do not want him to taste it, like I have.

I slink away, but not before stopping around the corner to try to calm myself down.

Tears rolls down my cheek as Louis finishes his testimony. The court walls are all yelling at me. My inner voice scolds me for not keeping my guard up.

He knows. I say as I sit back into my desk.

It takes everything in me not to take another swipe for what a fool I am.