Fucked up (1D)

The 17 year old Mary Jane Moore, lives a normal life - until on her 17th birthday, where her loving parents tragically dies in a car accident. The young man behind the opposing car survives - but he is no ordinary boy. What will happen when Mary Jane is forced to meet the "killer" of her parents? And what will happen to her after her parents death?

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11. Louis Tomlinson's P.O.V

“Harry, you there?” I knocked on the door again, waiting patiently for him to open up and let me in. Well, let’s just face it. I am in no way patient.

“Come on lad! Open up!” I said, this time a bit louder, my foot tapping repeatedly on the floor.

“Go away…” his raspy voice said. I could feel the negative vibes coming all the way from the room, just by standing outside it.

“Harold Styles, you can’t just sit in your room all day every day! I know you have a lot of guilt, but you need to talk to us!” As soon as I said the word talk, the door clicked open, and he had pulled me into his room. The curtains were closed, and it was quite dark and stuffy in there. He closed the door, eliminating the only source of light in the room. I sat down on the bed, Harry standing in front of me, leaning back on the door. I could see his silhouette, and his dark curly hair was scruffy, and not as polished as usual. His oversized pajama-pants were hanging loosely over his waist, and he had no shirt on, his tattoos almost lighting up his body, making it glow. He slid down the door, his hands covering his face. His breathing was irregular, and his arms shaking, as the silent sobs filled the room.

“Louis, I…” he stuttered. I leaned back onto the headboard, clearly feeling where he had slept for the past days.

“I killed them.” He finally said, breaking into tears. I sat down on the floor, my head resting on the tall mattress behind me. I sat there for a while, watching him, weighing what I was going to say.

“How did it feel to go to the funeral?” I asked, and put up my knees, and put my elbows on them. He didn’t answer at first. He looked up at me, and dried his eyes with the back of his hand.

“It felt like closure. But seeing the face of that poor girl…” he laughed at himself.

“…Was one of the hardest things I’ve ever witnessed - But later, feeling her head on my shoulder, her body against mine… it felt like she had forgiven me. It felt like she didn’t hate me.” I licked my lips, and stood up. I walked over to Harry, and slid down the wall, to sit next to him. I rested my head against the wall, and looked out into the air in front of me.

“Harry, what you did was stupid and reckless. You’ve never been a more dumb, young, and selfish teenage boy – and there is no way in HELL she’ll ever forgive you for what you’ve done. Like you’d never forgive her for killing Anne, or Gemma, or anyone else in your family. But what she can do, and probably will do, is realize that you would never intentionally kill her parents…” he winced at the word kill, which made me think about what I was going to say next.

“That, you can expect of her. Nothing more. But it might take months, years – even decades – for her to do that, and finally look at you in the magazines, or in the newspaper, and not be disgusted by you. But she needs her time to mourn, and her time to think about what she had, and what she will never have. She needs that time, and there’s nothing you can do to ever change that fact. Like there’s nothing you can do to ever change the fact that their gone; and that you’re the reason why they’re gone. And even though that’s a tough fact, that’s the truth. It’s the right way to put it. It’s just important that we’re all here for you. You are surrounded by people you love, and by people who want nothing but the best for you. Talk to me, Zayn, Liam, Niall, Gemma, Anne, Paul, Lou, Tom, heck, you can even call Simon if you feel like it. Just remember; we’re not judging you – you’re judging yourself.” He put his head against my shoulder, and took a deep breath of relief.

“Thanks Louis. I’m sorry I forgot you guys for a while.” He said, his voice shaky.

“I love you, Hazza! Remember that!” I said, and kissed his cheek quickly, before standing up, and walking out the door, into the light.

“Louis?” He called. I turned around, and looked at him, standing in the room, suddenly light from the windows, now uncovered.

“Can you help me with something? I need an address…”

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