Psychotic ( A Larry Stylinson Fanfiction)

Chapter 40

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CHAPTER 40

Snow halted in its downpour as it rested on the window outside. It blanketed the cool London streets and whirled through the air with a monstrous howl. A blizzard was being conjured up outside the walls, keeping kids from building snowmen and having fights; it was not that kind of snow.

I had long since forgotten the months as they dragged by outside that window in Kelsey's office. Was it November? December? I didn't know and it didn't matter, really. It was just cold.

Wickendale had only maintained its heat so that it was barely adequate to keep the patients warm. And even that sometimes left the walls and the air inside them cold because of the world's harsh winter. Complaints were made to turn the heat up rather than down.

But right now, in this very second, my body started to sweat. I felt hot whips coil throughout my entirety like the smoke of a cigarette. It started at my heart and with each pump it curled all the way toward my fingers and my legs. A fire roared in my chest and a burning hot like that of the devil's pitchfork twisted in my lungs, stealing their breath. My back felt as if it were in flames, the smoldering heat pulling the muscles until they were so tense it caused pain. I couldn't talk. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.

And I knew the feeling. It was rare and unfamiliar, but I knew it. It was the same feeling I had when I heard the news about Emily's death. Panic. Well, panic and anger.

I was not a man of kindness and I had done things I'm not proud of. But if there was one good thing I did in this world, it was loving Louis with everything I had. Hell, he was all that I had. No family, no possessions, no money. Just him. And now Wickendale was taking even that away from me along with my last bit of sanity. So I panicked.

Suddenly I was standing. I hadn't remembered getting up. My eyes scanned the room in search of clues for what had happened in those last few seconds. Psychology books were scattered wide open along the ground. Pens and pencils littered the floor and papers laid in a mess all around me. My throat was soar and I was breathing heavy. I didn't have much recollection of the previous few seconds, but slowly I could remember flashes and glimpses of my hands, although restrained, knocking things violently off the wooden desk and shouts coming from my mouth in a scream. I don't remember what I said exactly, but it probably included the work "fuck" and many other vulgarities.

The door was suddenly swung open and Brian stepped inside. "Are you okay?"

He hadn't been talking to me but that's where his eyes were directed. He reached for my arm, about to pull me from the room without an answer.

"No!" Kelsey said before we got very far. "It's okay, it was my fault. He's fine. I'm fine. I'll bring him out when our session's over."

"You sure?" Brian asked.

"Yeah," Kelsey sighed, forcing a smile.

He didn't seem all that convinced. But after giving me one more skeptical look and scanning the room, he finally closed the door.

I looked down at Kelsey who was scrambling to pick up her things and I felt a pang of guilt. I may not have liked her but that wasn't her fault. At least she was helping us escape.

"I - I'm sorry," I muttered. And I was. I was just so angry at Ms. Hellman and James and Wickendale and myself, but that wasn't really Kelsey's fault, either.

"It's okay," she said in a quiet, sympathetic voice that I had never heard her use before.

"No, it's not," I argued, and then bent down to pick one of the books up off the floor.