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Hide & Seek (Larry Stylinson AU)

Chapter 17

I found him in the darkness and he became my light.
*NARRATOR'S POV*
"Will you tell me your name now?"
The sound of approaching heavy footsteps makes Louis stop everything, dropping to a degree of silence so deep he could hear his blood freeze over. He hadn't heard any door at the back open or be shut. He knew who it was and for the first time in his existence he wanted it to be a prank by some uncouth teenager.
Louis bites his lip before turning around. Regret. Fear. Panic. Adrenaline. All rolled into a bouquet of flourishing disaster within him. With his back now facing the door, Louis' breath gets caught in his throat and the store keys in his hand slips from his grip to the floor.
Rupert is unpeturbed by Louis' appearance and acceptance - or lack thereof - of him. Louis' heart goes into overdrive and all that he feels is doubtful fear. He wished Harry would just walk through the door now. He prayed for that.
"You're pretty. That's why I'll ask again." Rupert taunts as he comes around the corner of the counter. "I'd really like for us to be friends."
"What do you want?" Louis tries to regather what courage he has, bending to retrieve the fallen keys.
"To know your damn name." Rupert's breath smelt of plaque and decaying vegetables when he comes up in Louis' face.
"It's Louis."
"You know, Louis." Rupert smirks proudly. "I think you'll like me more than Harry."
"I doubt it. We're pretty close." Louis swallows and steps back when Rupert is close enough again for the odour of his dying breath to fill his nostrils. It smelt of dead animal. A haunted and more venomous expression finding a home on his nasty visage.
"Fucking braveheart, aren't you?" He grabs ahold of Louis' arm.
The contact is achingly throbbing and Louis screams, all of which experience individual physical torment from the action. He tries to free his arm but all acts of release result in Louis' further assault. Rupert has him by both his arms now, forcing him to move backwards and Louis' mortal strength is vagrantly no match for what it is faced with.
Rupert uses profound physical stability to push Louis onto the ground, it's a desperate attempt since Louis proves to be a worthy contendor. They're behind the counter, Rupert finds joy in knowing nobody can see them. The boy writhes in pain and discomfort whilst trying to escape this malevolent man. Rupert has him by his arms, sending electric shocks of excruciating pain each time Louis tried to shove or fight him. What was happening?
"Shut up, will you?!" The older man bellows. "The sooner you shut it the quicker this will be."
He releases Louis' hands but indentations of his handprint are all over his skin, traces of purple bruising and wilting DNA pressed into the surface. Louis' mouth is gagged and nearly choking him, by the sleeve of Rupert's green sweater that had conveniently been ripped off. His attempts at freedom are futile against this beast of a phantom.
"Your boyfriend's not here to save you now, is he?" Rupert taunts in his robotic voice that echoed in Louis' ears.
His hands move to Louis' jeans and deftly unhooks the belt that had been put into place. As awkward as Louis felt with sex recently, he still wanted only Harry to touch him this way. He didn't know why. He squeezes his eyes shut trying to buck his hips in resistant, but the man nails Louis' arms to the cold floor with extreme force that causes Louis to scream despite the cloth in his mouth. Beads of sweat roll down his forehead and cheeks, dampening his throat and the tiles.
"I wondered what you'd feel like." Rupert makes Louis want to hurl from disgust. Louis' trousers were completely disposed of now. "When I saw you outside that house, I knew that you had to be good. You have intrigued me."
Louis makes a whimpering noise, whining in absolute hatred and destruction. He was going to be touched like this, raped by a man who didn't pump blood or have a caring emotion in those vacant vessels.
Louis keeps his eyes shut, painfully tight. He hear Rupert's breathing boots stamp the wooden floors. His voice is disturbingly close when he speaks next. "And my cock."
Louis turns his head in the direction he prays is one where he wouldn't have to face this horror. The psycho's mind is reeling with extensively exciting ideas, he has the boy he's had his perverted eye on for two days at his mercy. Had Louis been a little more willing, he thinks this would have been the best time of their lives.
He palms Louis through his boxers, stunned and aggravated when the boy doesn't respond. Louis cries out from this terrible feeling, he wants Harry here. Now. He remembers his phone is in his pocket but useless because this monster had his knees astride him.
Rupert grows impatient and shreds through Louis' tight boxer briefs. He is visually impressed but does not waste time in admiration. Unbuckling his own pants, he frees his dying erection and slams into Louis with one heady thrust.
Louis' scream is a muffled cry and plea for this to end. His eyelids hurt from being squeezed so tightly and his temples are throbbing from the severe headache coming on. The barbaric man dry tears Louis apart with a single thrust, turning Louis' metabolic strength into dust. Louis sobs into the fabric that smells of salt and saliva, his tears are hot and stemming from fear.
He gives up all hope of a successful struggle and Rupert is driven beyond reason as he pounds painfully into Louis' frail body, no mercy shown and no respect for self-preservation.
Louis let's this happen to him, there was nothing he could do anymore. The stink of a dying release inside him fills the air. Louis' knows he's hurt, every muscle within him is creaking and fighting him. Rupert pulls out of Louis and redoes his pants.
"I know you'll tell him." Rupert pants. "If you live until he gets here, of course. So I'll be expecting him."
Louis moans as he turns on his side. His heart drops and blood chills when he feels cold breath on his neck. He doesn't open his eyes when the stench grows to be overpowering. He was afraid of the sight he'd meet. Suddenly, it stopped.
Louis felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. His behind hurts and let's out a shout of extreme agony as he falls on his side, the chill gravitating with him. He cries into his arm after untying the knot that kept in his sobs and cries for help.
*LOUIS' POV*
I never felt hurt or pain like this. I don't think anyone has. My body fails in every physical duty it wishes to carry out. The pain is excrutiating, travelling in sudden shocks up my spine to my brain where the vicious cycle would send it resonating through my body. I felt like I'd been put into a state of paralysis. I couldn't move or all I'd do would be to feel pain. I was bleeding and felt utterly disgusted.
Harry's gentleness fell to pieces now when I felt the blood drip down my leg and pool around me, soaking the waxed flooring that hardly concealed my quaking form. My lips quivered and my body shivered with a chill only I felt. My shirt was still on, though it offered no support.
*HARRY'S POV*
I dump the bags on the kitchen counter, and grip the keys to the attic tightly in my fist. Something felt wrong, but I recently always felt that way so I choose to ignore it.
I slide the key into the ancient slot and after a series of noises, the door opens. There's a narrow staircase leading up to the notorious space cramped with moss and dust. I close the door behind me as I go up two at a time.
It's pitch black, all that should be in sight is cloaked by darkness. I hear the rattling of a dying electrical switch and reach for it. Light fills the room and I see that only boxes are piled from corner to corner, wall to wall, even blocking out the window that's otherwise disguised by planks of wood.
I wipe a layer of fuzz off the closest box and read the label. ALBUMS. Photo albums? Music albums? I lift the lid and find that they were referring to photo albums. Who stored their belongings in here? It's too much for one family. Unless they never got to repack before they left.
The first album is of a Southern family. I know because they're standing beside an Alabama sign on the cover. I drop it and move the box to pick up the next one. PHOTOGRAPHY. Inside are stacks of unfiled and miscellaneous photographs taken maybe a decade ago. A pregnant woman, a baby girl.
The third box is more interesting. NEWSPAPERS. It is a series of six Metrofile boxes, an archive of newsletters since 1864 dated January 23rd in Middleston. My eyes widen as I flip back to the cover. Middleston County Herald - Issued January 23rd, 1864.
My family tree would take me back maybe three generations if I had to go back to that year. Certain articles were cut out, placed onto sheets of cardboard that had no significance to me. I frown while I try to decipher their meanings.
I read the different headlines scattered across each page.
Middleston's First Sheriff!
Middleston's Mayor Dead
1878 - The Year To Mourn
Murder on Lost Lake.
I pause and go back to the last title. Lost Lake. I read the article with intent concentration, resolution being to find out why my home was mentioned in a 1800's homicide article. I frown at the irony.
Murder on Lost Lake.
By John Edwards Darson
Together with the double murder of last year, Middleston is faced with yet another gruesome tragedy. The deaths of the Robertsons from Lost Lake.
A mother, father and their three daughters just got back from a picnic but never stepped out again. The scene was described by Deputy Clarkson as "..a bloody mess.."
Ana Robertson, 29 (left) was found raped with severe gashes across her chest. Joanna, 9, Alice, 12, and Megan, 3, (right) were discovered with slit wrists and no traces of rape. Felix Robertson, 32 (left), was the most cruel of the cases; eye blackened from a physical struggle, jaw torn open and slit to form a sadistic smile and a his name scrawled across his forehead.
The mayor has put the finest on this case, reassuring citizens that security has been upgraded and they are safe. The case remains cold and unsolved.
The article offered little if not none, of the proper insight I'd have required. The murder did not sound familiar nor did it interest me, but there was something special about it for the article to be pasted on a dense piece of board.
Something shimmers, reflecting the light produced by a flourescent bulb that's probably as old as these newspapers. A few boxes fall to the floor when I try to reach for it. A black pouch with a ripped corner. A blade case carrying a bowie knife, rusted at the hilt but still useful.
I hear the halting of a car followed by Phoebe's giggles. Shit! I look at my battered watch and fumble around to stand up. 17h49. Louis is probably waiting. I make a mental note to get a phone for temporary usage.
Martha meets me on my way out after I'd locked the attic and tucked the keys into my jeans pocket.
"Hey, Harry. Phoebe wants to spend the night with Jonesie. Is that okay?" She asks holding both girls' hands as they peer up at me.
"I'm going to get Louis now so you can ask him. I'm sure he won't mind." I say sweetly and the little ones giggle.
The SUV gets me to Dayton's before the clock strikes 18h00. I'd have to profusely apologise for being late without letting on the reason as to why I was.
The lights are on the sign says they're open. I hop out of the driver's seat and lock the vehicle with the flicker of orange lights.
*LOUIS' POV*
I'm sure death is less agonising. Having slipped under on the cold floor, my neck is tight and vision clouded. I was curled up in the corner, hidden by a large shadow that kept the temperature low and my body freezing. I had no strength to move, if I did I'd fear the pain of doing so.
The door opens and my heart stops. Did Rupert come back? Is he not done yet? Fear regrows in my chest and I look up slowly.
"Louis?" It's Harry. Sweet Jesus. I've never been more glad. But I have no voice. He can't see or hear me.
"Lou?" Harry closes the door and steps into the store.
I make the only sound I can. A helpless moan. Harry's head snaps to attention but he still can't see me right at the back.
"Louis!" Harry barks, almost angry now.
I make a guttural sound from my throat, like I'm pleading with my throat to not give up on me yet. He sees me.
I let my head drop back against the shelf from exhaustion as I hear sprinting footsteps.
"Louis!" Harry crouches beside me. "What happened? Who did this? Tell me!"
I couldn't and he understood momentarily. I locate my voice and open my eyes. "Can we go, p-please?"
He nods, eyes hooded and heated. He drags on my trousers for me and I ignore the embarrassment of what it would be like if the circumstance was different.
"Tell me if I'm hurting you." He picks me up off the ground and I'm grateful because I'd never be able to walk.
I rest my head sleepily in the crook of his arm, feeling his warmth radiate onto me. My words come out a stutters on account of the cold. "W-we have to clean the f-floor."
"Screw the floor, Louis." He tightens his grip.
"Lock up."
His jaw tightens and I know to shut up now. The lights are switched off and the door locked before we leave. I fall asleep again in the backseat of the SUV with the heater on, my head risen off the seat by Harry's jacket.
"Where's Phoebe?" I ask.
"With Martha."
Fuck, Harry! "Why? She was supposed to be with you."
"She's safe, Louis."
"I thought I was fucking safe too, Harry."
The anger has coinsided with my adrenaline that ceases to exist, causing a pulsating headache. I groan and hear no response from Harry. I drift before the argument can be furthened.
"Hey." Harry shakes my arm. "Wake up. You have to at least let me carry you."
I gave zero fucks about how cowardly I looked, because my body leaked pain and if anyone mocked it they'd have to feel it for themselves.
Harry locks the apartment door still carrying me as deadweight before striding across the room to the bathroom. Shit. We had a shower and no tub. That meant I'd have to stand on my own two feet.
He, without command or permission, loosens my clothing after making me stand and I decide it isn't as excrutiating as predicted. He turns on the water and steam fills the dimly-lit room.
"Stay." I say weakly wrapping my hand around his wrist.
He nods and comes to stand under the water sans any clothing.
"Are you angry with me?" I ask blindly.
"Tell me who hurt you, Lou." He encourages my head to rest on his shoulder. "I'll end them for you."
"D-Don't kill anyone." Harry's charges would worsen if anyone was to die by his weapon. I would have no one to rely on, as pathetic as that sounded.
"Why not? They hurt you."
"But I'm not dead."
"All is the same. Tell me who."
"R-Rupert. He was at the store during the day but I didn't think he'd do anything."
Harry goes stiff, part of me suspects I'm being punished by the harshness of his blunt nails pressing into my skin. He presses my back against the wall and my head hits the hard barrier.
"Ow." I mutter in annoyance under my breath.
Harry's hand comes up to my neck and I freeze, confusion piling inside me. Holding the base of my throat with both hands he runs a trail up my jaw with his nose.
"I'm sorry." He says into my ear. "He won't touch you again. No one will."
I allow my body to slump against his as the water washes me off and he supports me with his arms restricting my movements. Tension excels over my near quivering form when Harry releases me altogether and and steps out of the shower. A frown forms on my face.
"What?" I ask blatantly.
"Do you want to end up a prune? Get out of the shower." The dry humour is empty and his smile doesn't even touch the corners of his eyes in the slightest.
"I want to go get Phoebe. I don't like her being anywhere alone." I say to Harry while I put effort into putting clothes on.
My behind felt tender and extremely sensitive, the muscle was taut and painful every time I moved. Harry observed like an onlooker from the doorway.
He nods and goes off with large prowling strides towards the frontdoor. I don't want to be here alone during the time it takes him to fetch my sister.
"I'm coming too." I say.
"No. You're in pain. Stay here." He states the obvious in a curt and not-to-be-argued-with tone.
"I'm fine." I choke on the last syllabel because of a spasm of pain spiralling up my back.
"I'll be right back, Louis." He reassures. "Stay. Here."
He closes the door and I have no choice but to obey. It's dark out but people still hover around in the streets with hopes and histories that don't include suicidal thoughts. How I envy them. I sit on the couch, careful to not apply pressure to my lower region, which is pretty fucking pointless considering I have to sit on my arse.
I wait with the television on for less than four minutes before Harry comes in with Phoebe. She doesn't look pleased with either of us.
"Why did I have to come back?" She whines and crosses her little arms by the door after Harry shuts it.
"Because I'd like for you to be here every night. Where I know you're safe." I tell her truthfully.
"But I'm safe with Martha." She plonks herself down on the couch next to me with frustrated little tendrils of hair poking out of her ponytail.
"Yes, but not as safe as you are with me." I brush them away from her eyes.
"Can I go tomorrow?"
"Don't you want go out with me tomorrow?" I feign accelerated offence at her unspoken rejection.
"Where will we go?" She pushes her wreckless hair away from her eyes. I hadn't noticed Harry seat himself on the floor by the wall.
"I need to get a bed. Food. Another couch. Candy." I haven't even constructed a formal list.
"Okay, I'll come." She directs her attention to the TV. "Can I go to Martha's after that?"

Notes

Comments

@Suman98
Can you please MAKE another one I LOVE THIS STORY

Amazing. ...

That_Moment That_Moment
9/18/14

Amazing. ...

That_Moment That_Moment
9/18/14

Only on the prologue, but I love it so far.

@Suman98

Awe :) your welcome!
and...... oh my gosh yay!