If Walls Could Talk

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Louis awoke in a daze to the sound of knocking. Disappointed at the fact it wasn't coming from the wall behind his head, Louis tried to ignore it. He did his best to bury himself further into his bed, hoping to fall back asleep, as he had barely gotten any through the night. The knocking, however, was persistent, and Louis tried to listen carefully to see where it was coming from.

Is that at my front door? Louis thought to himself, trying to gauge if that assumption was correct.

At first, he thought it might have been his aunt, but why would she be knocking on her own door? She had a key. Then again, it could have been her trying to annoy Louis. She could occasionally be very petty, especially after a fight. While Louis could understand it, she should have more control over herself.

Louis continued to lie still in his bed, keeping his eyes closed and trying to drown out the continuous knocking on his front door, but the memories of the night before rushed around in his mind. He saw his aunt standing in his bedroom's doorway, screaming at him, though not stepping over the threshold to his room. Her face had looked so much like his mothers. More so than it usually did. Louis remembered the pain he had felt in his chest, and how he couldn't hold his tongue anymore and yelled back.

He couldn't bear the thought of screaming at his mother, and even though it wasn't her, and Louis knew that it still felt like it was. His aunt had just looked so much like her. The memories kept whirling as Louis recalled laying on the bathroom floor, tears from his eyes silently rolling down his cheeks and onto the cold tile floor. A horrible taste had sat in his mouth, and he could still taste it now, as he lay in the comfort of his bed.

Doing his best to move his thoughts off the horrible night, Louis tried to think of the good. He forced himself to think of the voice that had floated through the wall. The voice that had somehow managed to calm him down. Isaac may not have been able to fix what had happened, and he may not have undone what had happened, but he had made Louis smile, and even laugh. And for a moment, just a split second, when he was listening to Isaac's voice, Louis had forgotten about the pain he felt.

He forgot about the pain in his chest as he let the soft, calming voice of the boy next door wash over him. For that short moment, Louis felt as if it was going to be alright. But it passed, as everything does, and now Louis lay in his bed, no longer able to drown out the knocking coming from his front door, and no longer able to hold back the few tears that seemed to have formed in his eyes, which he wiped away on his pillow.

Taking a deep breath, Louis fluttered his eyes open and immediately wanted to close them again as he was greeted by the bright, morning sun, which was sneaking its way into his room. Louis tried to ignore the slight sting in his eyes, as he slowly forced his body to roll over, squinting them to see what time it was. His heart dropped. Seven-thirty-seven. His alarm hadn't gone off.

Louis' eyes scanned downwards until they reached a spot on the floor next to his bed where his phone charger laid. It was vacant. No longer tired, Louis jumped up from his bed and rushed over to the jeans he had been wearing the day before, searching the pockets. It was there he found his phone: out of charge and unresponsive. Louis ducked over to his bed and swiftly plugged it in, though it wasn't going to do him much good now. Louis could still hear the knocking. It seemed to have become more persistent.

"Louis! Open the door!" It was Sam. He was still slamming his fist on the door as his voice carried through the apartment.

Hastily throwing his clothes off and changing into something more suitable, Louis flew around his room, grabbing everything he would need for school, leaving his phone sitting next to his bed on charge before rushing out of his room and to the front door. Taking one last sigh and listening to his best friend bang on the door a few more times, Louis ripped it open. Sam stood before him with a look of worry and confusion etched on his face. His fist still raised, ready to knock on the door again.