The Past Can Hurt. {Louis Tomlinson} (Complete)

Chapter Twenty-One.

Louis' P.O.V

I remember it hurt...looking at her hurt. Watching her break, watching her beat herself up, watching her hate herself. It drives me insane, not being able to help her. Not being able to touch her, kiss her, love her. When she hurts, I hurt. She's my dream.

It's been an entire week since that little incident. They told us they put her in the twenty-four hour watch and moved her to the intensive care unit. No, not like at the hospitals. It just means the people there need more attention, therapy, things like that. We're not aloud to see her while she's in the ICU; they say it's a time for them to meditate and get their stuff together so they can be moved back into the regular unit.

I miss her so much. All I've been doing this past week is laying in her bed, the blankets wrapped tightly around me, and staring into space. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't move without aching emotionally and physically.

She consumes my every thought. She's all I think about day in, day out. There hasn't been a moment she hasn't been on my mind. Her face, her hair, her body, her everything. The way her hair falls beautifully down her back. The way her pearly-white teeth are bared when she smile; when she really smiles. The way her eyes can go from showing every emotion she's feeling, to showing nothing at all. That's when her walls are up.

I'm the only one that can break through those walls. Not a therapist, not a doctor, no one but me. I'm the only one she's ever let close enough to be able to. We're the only people who wouldn't hurt each other. We only need each other; no one else. We can't trust anyone but ourselves to keep our secrets safe, hidden from the world.

A soft knock is heard from the other side of my love's door.

"Who is it?" I croak, not even attempting to move.

"Louis?" Niall says quietly, walking in and over to the big bed with a tray of food that I see out of the corner of my eye.

"Not hungry." My voice cracks as I snuggle my heard further into Katy's plush pillow, taking in her scent that I miss oh so terribly.

"Lou, you need to eat something. You haven't eaten in a week!" He exclaims, not loudly though.

"I said I'm not hungry!" I groan. "Get out!" He obliges.

Katy's P.O.V

Seven days, twelve hours, thirty-seven minutes, and six seconds. That's how long I've been in the ICU. I won't eat, I won't sleep, I won't talk. To anyone. A few words here and there, maybe. I want to get better, but I don't see that happening. Not here, not anywhere. Recovery just doesn't seem possible, at least not right now.

You're pathetic, my subconscious tells me.

"I know." I whisper.

You're weak. If you were as strong as everyone, even you, says you are, you would've recovered by now. But no, you just had to try to kill yourself multiple times, she adds.

"I know." I repeat just as quiet.

You should hate yourself for being so worthless.

"I do." I weep lowly, squeezing my eyes shut and gritting my teeth.

I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself. I hate my looks, my mind, my everything. I hate everything about me. I can't do anything right; I'm just a screw up. The only thing more tangled than my hair, are my thoughts. I just wanna pack and leave, without telling anybody, and never come back. Maybe that would be best for everyone around me. I'm a burden to them.

"Stop," I scold myself. "Think about Louis, and only Louis."

Wonderwall:

The word wonderwall is a metaphorical term used to describe a person, place, or event.