Written In Our Scars

Louis Tomlinson is stumbling through High School. The past three years have been nothing but merciless beatings and ruthless bullying from a tough gang of teenage boys. Louis' senior year is rewritten when he finds a love for music and an unexpected girl he begins to fall for. A twist in Louis' story transforms his dim future and fills it with fame, love and music.


1. Louis Tomlinson

I collapsed, grasping my stomach, writhing on the ground. I grinded my teeth in utter helplessness, truly unable to control the unruly pain and bitter tears welling up in my eyes. Murmurs of laughter flooded my ears as I watched Dalton thrust open the school doors, his gang trailing slowly behind him snickering. The sounds of chattering students and strict teachers drifted from inside for a short second until the heavy door slammed shut with a loud smack. I lifted up my t-shirt slightly, only to see another black and blue bruise dominating my stomach. As I glanced down, I counted four more bruises, all a shade of dark plum. I shakily stood to a standing position, an ebbing pain creeping up my stomach. I limped over to a distressed bench, near the back of the school building. I hunkered down on the unstable bench and let out my ongoing anger towards Dalton and his gang. Dalton’s gang consisted of three stocky jocks, Chris, Bolton and Peirce. However, the three of them had caused only a sliver of the ongoing punches and kicks. Every single day, I am tortured; my days are never completed without a hard smack across the face or unbearable kick in the stomach. Dalton’s girlfriend, Tara, from what I have heard, was a popular bitch. Although, I guess I already knew that. Sometimes, when Dalton and his gang would treacherously beat me or spit out nasty remarks, Tara would stand there and text her friends or just snicker. In our school, the level of kindness and intelligence of a person has absolutely no effect. If you are gorgeous and wealthy like Tara or muscular and “hot” like Dalton and his gang, you were popular. As for me, I am the laughing stock. I, Louis Tomlinson, am unpopular and friendless. If the “popular clique” didn’t like you, neither did the entire grade (the position I am in). The hatred towards me started in ninth grade, Dalton and I were best friends. Dalton had been dating Christina Valentino, whom was stunning. However, I embraced being single and was the popular class clown and major flirt. Christina broke up with Dalton and of course he was heart broken and furious. Dalton began to hate me; Christina broke up with Dalton because she wanted to date ME! After that incident, my popularity went downhill along with the rest of my reputation and friends. But I am not giving up; I just have to survive the remainder of senior year and then I can bury all my memories from this hell.

Time Pass To Later That Day

As soon as the last bell rung, I sprinted out of Mr. Richardson’s health room with my ratty backup slung over my right shoulder. I pushed past groups of short freshmen cluttering up the halls, chatting about their classes and attractive teachers. I rolled my eyes in disgust at their bubbly laughter and cheesy grins. I flicked a long brown lock of my hair out of my eyes and stumbled out of the grungy school, pushing the doors open with great relief. I jogged over to the Nandos a block away from my school. I entered through the back door mumbling hellos to my fellow kitchen staff. I changed into uniform in the crammed staff bathroom. I worked for three hours in the humid kitchen frying chicken breast and burgers and rolling up a variety of tortilla wraps. I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand and flipped a sizzling burger and sandwiched it between two white bulky rolls. “Gemma!” I yelled handing the young beautiful waitress a burger and two wraps on a round black tray.

            “Thanks Lou,” Gemma yelled back, flashing me a quick smile as she rushed off to deliver the food. I smiled; Gemma was consistently kind and sweet to everyone. Gemma was 19; she was a couple years older than me and went to Doncaster  College. Gemma’s family was extremely wealthy, so I always questioned why she worked at a British fast food restaurant. My thoughts about Gemma were abruptly interrupted by Rik’s voice yelling, “Tomlinson-your shift is over.” I changed out of my uniform and rolled it up into ball that I then shoved into my overstuffed backup. I walked two blocks back to the depressing apartment I call “home.” I unlocked the door with my rusty key and threw myself against the rotting door until it finally opened. I inhaled the scent of cigarette butts and cleaning product and walked along the rotting floorboards to my closet sized bedroom. I sighed and flopped down on my twin bed, starting on the endless pile of incomplete homework.

Time Pass To Next Morning

            My alarm clock vibrated and eerily screeched, as I stumbled out of my bed after a less then satisfying night’s sleep. As I showered, I glanced down at my stomach, realizing I needed to get back into routine workouts. I sighed, turning off the low-pressure stream of cold water that dripped from the rusty showerhead. I threw on a shirt and slacks and combed product into my shaggy hair. I grabbed my backpack and locked the front door. I walked along the sidewalk, making a sharp left turn leading to the double doors of Stamford High. I casually walked through the front door, trudging down the long hallway to my locker. I dropped off my unnecessary binders and papers and slammed my locker shut with vigor. I glanced down at my watch and was pleasantly surprised, it was only 6:30 am and school starts at 7:30. I must have gotten ready quicker than usual today. I decided to waste some time in the music room. I climbed up two flights of stairs and walked into the vacant music room. I sat down at the piano and began to play a few chords to warm up. I took out crumpled sheet music from my backpack and begun to play Breakeven by The Script. My hands tapped on the white and black keys as I begun to sing the chorus, “What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you and, What am I supposed to say when I’m all choked up and your okay, I’m falling to pieces, yeah, I’m falling to pieces-,” I belted out the chorus as my hands moved from chord to chord on the piano. Singing and playing piano was my escape. Words spilling out of my rough lips as my fingers banged and glided on a piano, was when I felt truly alive, when I plunged out from shades of blue and escaped into colorful music that filled my ears and opened my soul. I was nearly to the second verse when I heard the door of the music room creak open. My heart jumped and began to quickly pound. My cheeks flushed with color and I whipped my head around to see Mrs. Chandler standing in the doorway. “Louis, you have such great potential in theater arts, I would be willing to increase your grade in my music class if you tried out for the school’s musical,” Mrs. Chandler said cheerfully, smiling. My class grades were all A’s and A-‘s, that is all except for music class in which I refused to participate in. I really needed to boost my grade, and then I will be almost guaranteed a scholarship to a university I can’t afford.

            “When are the tryouts and what do I have to do?” I questioned Mrs. Chandler.

            “The musical is Hairspray, you will have to sing a section of a song from a musical,” Mrs. Chandler chirped with a smile, “At the audition, we will assign you a partner to recite lines from a specific scene,” she finished.

            “Cya there,” I said fake smiling. I picked up my backpack and rushed off to class.

            “LOUIS!!! THE TRYOUTS ARE AFTERSCHOOL TODAY!” Mrs. Chandler yelled after me.

            “Shoot,” I mumbled, how could I ever prepare for an audition when I don’t have any time. My mind raced, what would I even sing? Aladdin! I can sing “A Whole New World” from Aladdin.

            I chugged through the whole school day, feeling jittery and worried for the upcoming audition afterschool. When the last bell rang, I ran down to the auditorium. I sat down in a seat in the back of the auditorium. Mrs. Chandler welcomed us all to the audition and begun to read off the pairs who would be performing a scene together. “Louis and Tara, Chris and Lila…” Mrs. Chandler read off. Shoot! I was paired with Tara, Dalton’s devilish girlfriend. I scanned the room to see Tara walk towards me, leaving her clique of friends behind. Tara had a scowl across her face as she strutted over to me. “You act Tomlinson?” Tara snapped.

            “Ya…” I replied uneasily. The truth being that I barely acted.

            “Well don’t mess this up for me, I am in the running for the main, Tracy Turnblad,” Tara said.

            “Got it,” I growled. We prepared and rehearsed together for 15 minutes until it was our turn to perform. “Louis and Tara, please come up to the stage to perform the section you have prepared,” Mrs. Chandler called. Tara and I walked onto the stage and preformed, reading off our lines. When we walked off the stage, Mrs. Chandler looked thrilled; she clapped her hands and spilled out compliments. As we walked back to our seats, I could hear compliments being shouted at both Tara and I. I was shocked; I had not been complimented in a very, very long time. Twenty minutes later, I walked back on stage and belted out “A Whole New World”.

            “Nice, you pulled it off,” Tara mumbled.

            “Thanks, so did you,” I replied.

            “Louis-“ Tara started off.

            “I have to go,” I said as I begun to run out of the auditorium. I exited the school through the back door and leaned against the backside of the brick school building. I didn’t want to talk to Tara; I just couldn’t talk to someone who had helped to destroy me. She had stood and watched me get beaten, watched me break and burn. Yet she had done nothing to stop anything, not a punch or kick. Therefore, I can’t talk to her without feeling a strong urge to strangle her with nasty words. Today was probably the first time I did talk to her. And I planned that I would never talk to the bitch again. Right as I was about to get up I heard muffled yelling and Dalton’s voice rising above it. I walked silently towards the commotion, staying close to the building. I saw Dalton and his dear Tara fighting.

            “I didn’t Dalton, I would never-“ Tara screamed.

            “DON’T lie to me,” Dalton abruptly interrupted. Dalton edged closer to Tara. Tara was fear stricken but continued yelling, confidently backing away from Dalton. Dalton grabbed her wrist with his strong hand and dragged her towards him. He screamed at her and threw a punch that hit her in the cheek. Tara stumbled backward, falling hard on the ground. Dalton kicked her, I heard Tara scream and clutch her stomach. Dalton ran away, leaving Tara to cry and clutch her stomach. I stood there, I told myself to walk over and help her but legs wouldn’t move. I couldn’t help her and I wouldn’t. I found myself slowly walk over to her. She was still sprawled out on the ground crying. Her dirty blonde hair was tangled and sprawled out across the dirt ground. Tara’s beautiful green eyes were glassy and outlined in smudged eye makeup. I held out my hand, I looked down at her as she struggled to grab it. I squatted down and picked her up. I stood up with her in my arms. I had never witnessed Tara so helpless. Whenever I saw her, she looked strong and confident, strutting down the hallway covered in makeup. I laid Tara down on a wooden bench and squatted down beside her. Tara weakly smiled at me as tears splashed down her face.

            “Thank you Louis,” she mumbled under her breath.  “You were… amazing today, I never knew you were such a good performer,” she said, smiling up at me.

            “Thanks,” I mumbled with my head down. Tara stood up and walked slowly back to her BMW. I watched as she walked away, slumping her shoulders as she quietly sobbed. I shook my head in disbelief and walked home as the sky begun to plunge into a dark blue.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...