The voice slid through Louis' wall just as effortlessly as that morning, though Louis noticed a slight difference. While he could tell that it was the same person as before, they were speaking with a different tone in their voice. It was a tone that Louis was all too familiar with. It was the same one he had heard Kara use while talking to him many times. It was sweet and laced with sympathy, and Louis didn't have to see the face of the mystery person to know that there was concern written on it. While the words were spoken with a softness, they came through the wall clearer than they did in the morning, but at the same time, the voice sounded hesitant and distant.
Louis stood frozen next to his bed, not knowing what to do. Tears were still rolling slowly and silently down his face, though his body seemed to be calming down a bit. He had almost completely stopped shaking. At first, he thought it was just because he was startled, causing his body to react in stillness, but he knew that wasn't it. He had never calmed down this fast before, but he found his body was now barely shaking. He didn't quite understand why, but he chose not to question it too much, not now.
Cautiously turning around, Louis stared at the wall that was now in front of him, still not entirely sure on what to say or do. Or if he should say or do anything. The whole voice situation was so surreal to him. As a matter-of-fact, the whole day had felt surreal to him. While making a new friend at school was a high-point, Louis knew that there was going to be a low. That came in the form of a fight with his aunt. But now this... Louis wasn't sure what this was. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to find out.
A shaky breath made its way through Louis' body as he sat down on his bed, not making any sudden movements. It was as if he was trying not to startle a wild animal. But, at this moment, it felt like Louis himself was the wild animal. His eyes remained unmoving from the wall that sat behind his bed's headboard, and he waited. Surely, the person on the other side of the wall would speak again. Surely, there was a reason that they spoke. Had they heard what had just transpired in the apartment? Had they heard all of the yelling? The questions raced around in Louis' mind as he silently hoped that they hadn't heard anything.
Of course, they heard. Louis silently cursed. If he could hear the voice through the wall so clearly, even when it sounded like a whisper, then that person had definitely heard the screaming that was coming from Louis' apartment. He was pretty sure the whole building had heard.
Louis continued to sit and wait, but the voice did not come through the wall again, and the silence began to plague his mind. It was driving him insane. Normally, Louis would relish in silence, but after what had just happened—all the yelling and blood pumping around his head and ears—it felt as though he could still hear the echoes of the screams around his room. He could still see the silhouette of his aunt standing in the doorway. He could hear his heart beating in his chest, threatening to break out of his rib cage. The silence was daunting, and Louis felt as if he needed to get out.
Swiftly getting up from his bed, causing it to groan loudly, he made his way out of his room, only stopping when he thought he heard another noise come from behind him. After a second, he dismissed the thought and continued into the middle of the living room.
Why me? he thought. I just want it to stop.
Louis scanned the room, still hearing the echoes of what he had said to his aunt, feeling a wave of nausea rush over him. Louis spun himself around and rushed to the bathroom, making it to the toilet bowl just in time before bringing up the contents of his stomach. Louis pulled his head up from the toilet before lying back on the cold bathroom tiles, allowing guilt to make its way through his bones.
This was how it went. How it always went. This wasn't the first time he and his aunt had fought. However, every time they did, Louis' body followed the same steps. The same procedure. He always tried to keep his calm. Just wait until the storm had passed. Sometimes he could. Other times, he couldn't. Sometimes it all became too much, then anger surged through his body, causing words he never wanted to say to spill from his mouth.
When the anger left his body, it was always replaced with sickness. Then guilt. Louis knew what the last two steps were, and he carefully pulled himself off the floor, guilt still snaking its way through his body.
Of course, some of the things he said were true. He wouldn't have said them otherwise, but he also knew that his aunt was trying. Trying to be better and trying to do the right thing. Sometimes it may not have seemed that way, but deep down he knew she was trying.
She used to get drunk every night and pass out all over the apartment. Sometimes she'd even vomit before she'd pass out, and Louis would have to clean it up. It had gotten better. She had gotten better. But Louis couldn't help but feel resentment towards her. He couldn't help but feel the anger that he showed because she did only think about herself. Even when Louis was younger, he had to learn to take care of himself, and it wasn't fair. But, then again, when was anything fair?
Lost in his thoughts, Louis found himself back in his room, lying on his bed. He knew he should get changed out of his clothes or at least take his shoes off. But he didn't. The only thing he managed to do was to take his contact lenses out.
The guilt he was feeling was slowly melting away and began being replaced with sadness. Tears once again started to form in his eyes before rolling down his cheeks and onto his pillow. He hated feeling like this. When he got into his first fight with his aunt, and he went through the stages, he never understood why he got so sad or why he felt so guilty. Sure, he knew that he felt guilty because he shouldn't have said some of the things he did or done the things he had. But this was such a different kind of guilt. It was a much deeper guilt. A much deeper sadness. And he never understood it. He never understood why it took over him the way that it did.
Then, one day, it clicked. His aunt had been drunk, as usual, screaming about something. Louis was only fourteen at the time, and he didn't understand what he was getting in trouble for. He was just a scared teenager. He had been trying to stay quiet and stoically take the verbal abuse being dished out on him. But he had had enough. He dealt with it at school, from insecure shits in the form of teachers and bullies alike, and now at home. Enough was enough. And he yelled back. He screamed. As tears streamed down his face, as his voice rippled through the air, growing weaker with each word. And that's when he saw it. His aunt had gone quiet, and, at first, she was shocked, but then Louis saw a different look in her eyes. A look that soon covered her entire face, causing Louis to stop yelling. To stop breathing.
"Mum?" had been the only word that managed to slip out of his mouth.
His aunt had stood looking at him with the same look in her eyes that his mum used to have. Wearing the same look on her face. It was like looking at a photograph. Louis hadn't been able to hold himself together. He broke down, falling on his knees and calling for his mother. Calling for someone who wasn't coming.
His aunt had quickly turned and left the apartment, leaving Louis to be on his own. He had always been on his own.
That's why the guilt took over, and that's why the sadness followed. In every argument they had, his aunt always got the same look, making it feel as though Louis was screaming at his mother. As if he was angry at his mother. The very person he'd give anything to see. The very person who was currently staring at him from a photo frame in his bookshelf, looking happy. Looking proud.
Tears were now streaming down Louis' face as the floodgates had been opened. His vision was a constant blur, but that didn't stop him from sitting up and grabbing the photo frame from his bookshelf. Wiping as many tears from his eyes as he could, Louis stared down at the picture. His mother stared straight back, a wide, toothy smile on her face. A smile that reached every part of her face, causing her eyes to crinkle. The eyes that held so much love. The eyes that looked identical to his own.
Louis looked to the right of the photo. Next to his mum stood a man, roughly around the height that Louis stood now, looking down at his mother. Louis had always envied the love his father showed his mother. His parents had fallen in love in their final year of high school, and that love had never wavered, not once.
Then Louis was born, and that strong love they had for each other stretched over him. Louis was happy back then, and it was evident in the picture. He stood between his two parents, wearing a smile he hadn't worn in a very long time.
Louis continued to feel the tears fall from his eyes as he placed the picture on the shelf and lay back on his bed. The springs in the mattress groaned loudly, but Louis paid no mind to it as continuous sobs escaped him.
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