You Have No Idea

©Chapter 1

~Louise's POV~
The sun is shining and the birds are singing, but I'm here; on Twitter. The fact of the matter is: I'm not aloud outside. The sun could mess my medicine up. Eh, I'll get over it. Normals scare me anyways.

"Trending: #PewdiePurposeAlready" The only real reason to why this is here is because I want to see their babies! Ummm, that wasn't awkward. So let's continue... "Trending: #RobNoMoreBadBoys" Wait, what? I click on the link to the hashtags and instantly pictures fill my laptop.

"Images1.72&2.88: Five unknown robbers have been spotted and have been named by the community as 'Bad Boys.' None of them have been identified or arrested. No suspects yet. #RobNoMoreBadBoys"

Wow. Twitter sure has all of the gossip.

After many hours of Tyler Oakley, Pewds, and Marzia, I hear a knock at my door.

"Louise?" Nurse Joy asks, "May I come in?"

"Of course." I greet politely as she enters.

"Louise, this is Harry," she points to a lad behind her. "Your new roomie."

"A boy?" I stare, shocked. He's littered in unique tats and is very attractive but I just don't like him. Never judge a book by its cover, my conscience adds.

"Yes, we've already given him the rules and regulations and if you ever need to put a foot down I'm here."

"Okay," I look at Harry. "Hello, I'm Louise. We may need to talk but we'll be okay," I smile.

"Yeah fucking right," he snarls.

I stare in shock and let my mouth slap the floor. Did he just cuss?!

"Harold." Joy warns.

"Don't call me that." He snaps, making me jump.

"Harry, rule number one: No cussing. Please," I smile.

"Sure, sure," he smirks.

Mrs. Nurse Joy leaves and Harry looks at me. "Get out."

"What? No!"

"Now. My mates are coming over and I don't necessarily like you and your...presence."

"I. Don't. Care." I snarl. "This has been my room for over 13 years so I suggest you listen to me! I did not have to let you stay in here, you're a boy for gods sake! This room has been yours for -eh- maybe three minutes? So get used to me because I'm not going anywhere." After my speech I flop on my bed to prove my point.

"What?" He asks with wide eyes.

"You heard me." I smirk. He stares and then reaches for his back pocket. He smirks and low and behold he has a knife. "Leave."

"That doesn't scare me," I say confidently because frankly it doesn't. Nothing like that has ever scared me.

"Oh, sure, the shy girl isn't afraid of knives." He rolls his eyes and as he gets closer I can see blood. Oh god.

My eyes widen and I sit still. Well, that knife isn't even sharp, and he won't do anything. Will he?
"I'll tell you again. Leave."

"No," I swallow thickly. "N-No."

"Oh, sweetie, you should be afraid," he says as he gets centimeters away from my face. "Because I'm not." He lifts up my shirt and starts rubbing the knife against it. The knife is not what I am afraid of. My scars, I think. Please, don't see them.

I whip my shirt back down and whisper, "Pervert."

I scold.

He notices my hesitation and as quick as lightning my shirt is off, revealing my scars.
"What the...." He thinks deeply.

I try my best to cover myself but it's no use.

"Are you.... Did you..." He thinks aloud.

"No, it's-its not what you think." I lie.

"Here." He whispers as he throughs me my shirt. "Go to bed."

"Harry-" I start but I am cut off.

"Sleep." He snaps.

"It's noon." I point out. He glares at me so I nod. "Okay."

I take off my clothes leaving me in nothing but a shirt and panties.

"But first," he whispers. "Why did you do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"What's your story?"

I chuckle sadly. "I don't do stories."

Then, peacefully, I drift off to sleep.

Notes