99 Days Without You

Louis journal after Harry commits suicide

credit to original author

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8. Day 30-40

Day Thirty:
Today the boys and I spent a day of silence in your honor, refusing to answer any calls or text, or even just talk to each other. It was pure silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable one though; it actually felt a little nice. We lounged around yours and mine flat today, putting in your favorite movies to watch throughout the day. We all sat huddled together, grasping onto each other as we cried our eyes out. Sniffles echoed throughout the room and tissues were crumpled into piles surrounding us. We were a sorry sight to see.
But needless to say, that was the closest I had felt with them in a while.

Day Thirty-One:
I guess that up until now, I have had this thought in my mind that you were coming back, and that this was all one huge terrible nightmare I was having. I could wake up at any moment and you would be lying next to me, smiling like you did every morning.
But I’m starting to realize that you’re not going to come back.
Today I didn’t even know what to do with myself. I think the boys knew that I would want to be alone, so I wasn’t bothered with texts or phone calls, and nobody stopped by our flat to see if I was alright. I appreciated it, though it’s probably because they were mourning on their own as well.
I spent the entire day sitting in your favorite chair, staring blankly at the television as I drank the pain away. Three or maybe four beers max, and I was dropped on the floor and crying my eyes out. The pain of reality just sort of… hit me.

Day Thirty-Two:
I felt the rush today. It felt nice, and I watched in awe as the blood oozed out of my hand, the glass shards of the bedroom mirror shattered at my toes. I don’t know what had snapped in me, but I just couldn’t bear to look at my reflection any longer. So I punched it, harder than I have ever punched anything in my life.
The pains of the cuts were only temporary, and I soon felt a wave of ecstasy come over me. I liked the feel of controlling my own pain, instead of it being planted on me for once.
I was in the middle of dabbing the cuts clean when Liam walked in, saying he had heard a crash when suddenly he stopped, and stared at my hand. He stared at my hand and then the shattered mirror and then my face. I think it came off as a bit odd that I was smiling, but he immediately dragged me out of the bedroom, forcing me into his car and driving me off to the hospital.

Day Thirty-Three:
There’s a bandage around my hand now, and I don’t like it. I want to be able to see the scars, and trace my fingers along the creases I had made. To me they are beautiful, a wonderful symbol of my struggle of moving on from the past. But the boys just don’t understand.
They’ve been watching me nonstop, not allowing me to do anything myself or go anywhere myself. I’m becoming suffocated.

Day Thirty-Four:
I’m so hungry, but I can’t bear the thought of food. They try to make me eat, but it just won’t stay down. I’ve lost weight. A lot of it. Everyone’s noticed, and it’s hard to hide.
I also fainted today in the studio, and now people are becoming a bit worried. I’m fine though. I really truly am fine. I’m just not hungry.

Day Thirty-Five:
The boys and management haven’t allowed me to leave their sight within the last twenty-four hours, making sure I eat everything that’s on my plate and keep it down. It hurts my stomach and I don’t know how much longer I can take the pure torture of eating food. It tastes so bland and though my stomach rumbles for more I just can’t bear more than a mouthful.
Day Thirty-Six:
I’m not allowed to leave my apartment now, until I gain more weight. Management doesn’t want the press to gain any sight of my newly thin body, and create rumors which we all know are true. I’m not handling it well, and I think it’s become quite obvious by now.
The boys keep apologizing, saying that they should have paid more attention to my state the first month, and should have been there for me in my time of need. I told them I understood though, because they had to grieve as well.
I don’t need any babysitters. But it looks like I’m stuck with them from now on.

Day Thirty-Seven:
The itch to relieve my pain is growing stronger now than ever. The involuntary twitch in my hand to punch something made of glass is almost constant.
It’s impossible to give in to the craving though, when you have three pairs of eyes watching you at all times. The boys haven’t left my apartment for two days, and I have a feeling they’re not going to leave anytime soon.

Day Thirty-Eight:
The boys are forcing me to return back to therapy since they found out that I had been skipping sessions and ignoring Sarah’s calls. They say that it’s the best thing for me, and that I need help.
So here I am, writing this in the all too crowded office with Sarah staring intently at me. I can feel her eyes boring into me, and I’m almost afraid to look up.
She has been scolding me for the past hour, and when she finally stopped she told me to write, since I was refusing to stop. She thinks that writing these are bad for my health, because if I talk to you when you’re not really here, there’s no point in healing, she says.
But I don’t want to leave you behind. I just can’t do that. I love you, and I always will.
Nobody understands.

Day Thirty-Nine & Forty:
Sarah took my journal last night, so I wasn’t able to write down the day’s events before she grabbed it. But yesterday was pretty uneventful. I spent the day with Zayn and Niall, while Liam went to go visit Danielle. The three of us pretty much just chilled, and spent the whole day in silence.
They suggested going to the park, but aside from being forced to go to therapy, I just don’t think I can leave the house yet.
Today Niall found my journal, and when he asked what it was I simply snatched it out from his hands and hollered at him to leave it be. I know I should have been gentler… we’re all still in a pretty fragile state. I should have known that I had gone too far when he left the flat in tears, and Zayn arrived minutes later, only to scold me on my behavior.
“You need to grow up Lou, and move on from the past. We’re all torn up about it, but you don’t have to take your pain or frustration out on everyone else! You need help, Lou, and we’re trying to help you. But you won’t let us.” With that I had slammed the door in his face, because I was through listening to him lecture me on how to live my life.
I’ll let go when I’m ready.

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