Orphans | Larry

37

(Double update! Who is this?)

I had lived the past week in a dark daze. The fear of what had happened swallowing me whole.

I would wake up in the middle of the night with Stan's evil glare looming over me, me unable to move. I had never experienced sleep paralysis until now, yet my mind was playing a cruel trick, as with this one, I found it difficult to distinguish it from reality.

Zayn had been visiting a few times throughout the day, to ensure I was safe and well looked after. I could hardly get myself out of bed, I knew that my dark thoughts were returning, and there was little I could do to stop them.

I heard a small ruffle outside of the door, then a key twisting in the lock. I felt my blood pressure rise. I pulled the blanket over my head like a child that was scared of the monsters.

Little did those children know, that the monsters we truly had to fear were the ones living among us.

I waited in anticipation, for the intruder to reach their destination, me, I prepared myself for the worst , for what more could I expect when my spirit had been broken.

"Louis, where the fuck are you?" He called out, an angry tone I never thought I'd hear before.

I must be dreaming again, that is the only explanation. He is not here, he's in America. I am dreaming.

"I know you're here." He called out once more, his voice becoming increasingly closer.

"I'm not." I whispered to myself. Because really, I was a shell of a human.

I felt the footsteps allude my path, with each step getting closer to my hidden figure. Until the footsteps finally subsided.

"Get out from under there, Lou." His voice was stern, yet still held an inch of softness.

"You're not real." I whispered.

He laughed, and yet it was not a happy laugh, "I'm as real as ever. Now get out from under there, I need to show you something."

I slowly lifted the blanket that was sheltering my head, exposing my sunken eyes, my unwashed hair, and my tear stained cheeks, which somehow matched Harry's.

"Wow, you look terrible." Harry said.

"Thanks?"

"The guilt must be getting to you after all." He scoffed.

"The guilt of what exactly?" I fired back.

"Give me a moment," He said reaching for his phone, taking a moment to scroll through and find what he was looking for, "Of this."

He turned his phone to face me, a video of Stan kissing me, and then turning his head toward the camera so that both of our faces were clearly visible. I looked drunk, yet the camera perceived me as aware of my actions.

"It's not what it looks like." I whispered, my voice croaky.

"If it wasn't what it looked like then Stan wouldn't have confirmed it, and I wouldn't have gotten the first flight home."

"You're trusting Stan now?" I said in disbelief, "over me?"

"You've given me no reason to trust you, I had hardly arrived at LAX and you're already kissing another man? I mean I knew there was something deeper going on with you and Stan, but I didn't expect this."

"No you don't understand. Let me explain."

"Why should I?" Harry asked.

"He spiked me."

Harry laughed, "Oh did he now?"

"Why are you laughing?" I felt myself tear up.

"Because that's about as believable as those crocodile tears."

"It's true." I whispered.

"Then why didn't you tell me, as soon as it happened? Or better yet, why were you with Stan anyways?"

"I don't know." I said, because I honestly did not know what had possessed me to forgive him.

"Well then, if you don't know. Then I'm done here, we're done here."

"No, no, no," I said, "please don't break up with me, I need you."

"You'll live." He scoffed, and walked away, dropping his key at the foot of my bed, before turning around one last time, a solitary tear escaping the threshold.

"I won't." I whispered, but he had already gone.

-

(Trigger warning)

2 months later

With each day that passed, I found it increasingly harder to continue. I had crossed paths with him on a few occasions, yet he simply looked down, or away, as if I had never existed.

I saw him again today, I smiled, he ignored my existence. I could not go on further, I knew it. I had experienced life both with him, and without, and I knew that I would not survive an eternity without him.

I shut the bedroom door behind me, the pen in my hand, the piece of paper discarded at the front of my feet.

This was it. I had come to terms with my own departure, I felt at piece within myself, as much as I could with air still flowing into my lungs. I needed to turn off the faucet that was the endless drone of life, I had to accept that the world would mourn, then move on.

I could not wait to get out of this endless spiral of darkness, followed by a hint of happiness, followed by more darkness.

Each day I awoke, and although I had people surrounding me, I still felt an impending level of loneliness. I had some deep seeded issues, that was for sure, yet they had now flourished in my tears, grown roots and began to sprout leaves. The leaves were the true killer.

A hint of guilt stuck at the back of my mind, but that need not matter now, for soon my mind would turn off. Evaporate and join the endless amount of souls that floated around the universe.

I sent a quick message to Zayn, before turning to the piece of paper.

'Hey, curly...'

I poured the last of my heart into the ink that coated the sheets. I did not want him to feel guilt, I wanted for him to have closure, enough to move on with his life, to find somebody and be happy. For that was all that I ever wanted.

I bought the blade to my wrist, changing the direction of the cut to one that would send me to the morgue. I felt a warmth develop me, it was comforting, it was nice, and then, it all was gone.