She's too young - completed

This is a story I wrote for a fan, Ellie. I'm so sorry I haven't posted it, it's been waay crazy. So anywho, this is a fanfic about Louis Tomlinson. They fall head over heels in love, but will it work? People will cry. Feelings will die. And the world will continue to tell them, "She's too young..."

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24. Feeling weak, getting caught

I looked and everything I had felt: love, pleasure, desire, lust, passion, instantly turned into guilt, worry, pain, hurt, and cold.

 

My aunt walked in, smirking and giggling, "Tsk tsk tsk, well, well, well. What do we have here, Ellie?" She clearly had no clue I wasn't supposed be with a boy. In her eyes it was "aw look at the love birds."

 

I felt a bit of relief, as I seen it was her. Expecting it to be someone else. But then, her eyes widened and she noticed my fear. Aunt Bette attempted to stall him from coming inside so I could hide Louis and spare me from getting in trouble. Too late. Before I could even think why my aunt and him would be together, alone, he burst through the door.

 

"Louis get out." I mumbled.

 

"I don't want to leave you.." he whispered.

 

"Get out of my house! Right now or we're going to have problems Mr Tomlinson." Dad screamed at the top of his voice.

 

"But El.." Louis tried to grab my hand.

 

"Just get out, Louis. Go! I shouted at him, and he left without anything else to say.

 

"Dad.." I whispered.

 

"What's this?!" He screamed at me.

 

"I just..." Trailing off Aunt Bette butted in.

 

"Bill leave em' alone! She's just a kid."

 

"Just a kid? She's fourteen sucking face with a nineteen year old for Christ's sake!"

 

"he's eighteen.." I mumbled.

 

"Don't talk back!" Dad raised his hand and swatted my right cheek letting it swell instantly. I dropped to the ground sobbing, as Bette hit him in his arm trying to get him to stop.

 

"Don't you dare hit her like that you monster!" She yelled.

 

"Jesus don't tell me how to raise my child or when not to lay a hand on her, Bette." He shot back.

 

"You know what? We're done, Bill. If I find out you hit her again I'm calling the cops." Aunt Bette knelt down and whispered, "I'm sorry baby."

 

Then stomped out. "Yeah well I'm the sheriff you bitch!" He slammed the door.

 

"W- what's going on with you and aunt Bette..." I made out with tears, rubbing my swollen cheek.

 

"None of you're damn business."

 

"It's none of my business that you're cheating on mom with her own sister? But it's your business that I so much as kissed a boy, and you hit me?" Now I'm screaming at him.

 

"Go to your room!" His hand raised at me again, but I pushed him away running to my bedroom.

 

"You're so pathetic I hate you!" Slamming my door with so much force, it bruised my palm to a black and blue mark. I grabbed my cell, and instantly called Louis. Like before it rang. And rang. And rang, until he forwarded my call. Slamming into my pillows I wailed until my lungs became sore. Why would he forward my call? Was he mad at me? Because I told him to get out? Only because if it wasn't me getting slapped in the face, it would be him. And my dad would've done a hell lot worse on Louis if he hit him. I don't think he'd stop.

 

"Do you remember when you were small? And when you'd cry it wasn't all tears? You would simply wail and call out as if someone were to help stop the hurt. Dry your eyes of not only the water that signifies weakness, but the irrelevant noises that fell with. Sensible, considering your condition at the time. Yet abrasive to others, whom aren't aware of the ache you carry inside. And now, instead of crying, and rolling all around, and screaming, and calling for someone, it's come to a stop. You sit there, trapping what you have to howl within, to yourself. Only allowing the simple salt water droplets trickle down your cheeks, emptying like a raw prisoner, escaping its sentence. Nothing but silence. Because, you feel if you make any sudden sound, your small again. And weak. And that's a dream you never want to encounter again. Weakness."

 

Right now, I was weak. And my crying turned into calling out for someone. For Louis, my mom, God, anyone that would make me feel better. But it wasn't in my favour. Like it was fate for me to be hurting like this. And I hated it.

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