okay so i don't know what this is really it's just what came out so. also, grammar mistakes are intentional - they're to show the incoherence of lucy's thoughts.

warning: this fic involves hints of cousincest and themes of suicide and depression run throughout the whole piece. please do not read if this could be a trigger for you.

"I'm breaking, Louis. I don't know what to do," she whispers.

"I know," he replies. "I know what you're doing to yourself and I'm afraid."

.

She doesn't know when she began feeling this way. She's not sure when she started crying herself to sleep, or hiding away from her family and friends. It hurts, because she doesn't even know if anyone noticed that she changed. Did anyone really care in the first place?

It engulfs her, the emptiness and it shocks her that such an absence of feeling can hurt so much and yet not at all. She takes huge, gasping breaths as if the air around her is leaving and she has to hold onto it but she can't she can't she can't—

There is a point where she stops crying. She stares into the distance, not aware if she's staring at a wall, an oven, her wand. She doesn't care—no. She can't care anymore. It's pointless, isn't it?

I am worthless she thinks. She really, truly believes it.

She wants it to stop, but do you know the truth? She's too much of a coward to do anything, and so she stops living for real. She's dead, really, in every way except the only valid one.

Because as long as she's alive and you can't see any scars or marks or tears then she must be okay, right? She can't be hurting, not if she's smiling and laughing and—

She's not okay. Will anybody fucking look and realise that?

.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice sounding tiny, insignificant in a world full of people. She's just one more—why should she matter more than the rest of them?

Louis squeezes her hand. "I want to help you."

"You can't," she tells him. "I'm sorry, but you can't."

.

It was my fault she tells herself. Her mother is dead. She never knew her. Her father is broken. Her sister is broken.

They miss her.

And she can't miss her because she never knew her because she is the one that killed her with her birth. She's never known Audrey, never known her mother and gosh—

She can't cope with this.

She can't, she just can't. Isn't it enough to say that you're not okay? Why won't anyone else notice?

And she laughs and she jokes and she seems so normal, but don't they know that laughter is the best disguise? And don't they know that 'I'm okay' is the most told lie? And don't they know that Lucy is cracking, splitting apart at the seams and if someone doesn't step into save her soon she'll be gone—

Except, no. She's too much of a coward. She could never… she could never do that to herself.

Maybe it's a blessing in disguise, but Lucy is not so sure.

.

"Lucy, you can get help. I can help you," he murmurs.

"You don't understand," she tells him. "I'm not perfect. I'm never going to be perfect. And I don't need or want your help."

"Please." Louis pauses, staring into Lucy's eyes and wishing he could get through the façade to the real, genuine Lucy because he wants to help her. "Don't shut me out."

"I have to."

.

The worst thing is that everyone thinks she's okay. Does anyone look? Not just a passing glance, looking over her general appearance and checking that she's still smiling but a real, genuine, soul-searching look that says 'are you okay?' and helps save a life and helps her feel like maybe she's worth something again and is there anyone out there that really does that and does anyone really care do they?

People who used to mean the world to her are just features in her life, like extras in a depressing movie that don't really matter, they just seem to fill up the gaps except for Lucy not all the gaps are filled and she wonders if they ever will be will the gaps ever be filled for her and does anyone care whether they are or not?

And it's all just one never-ending question but the most pressing question is does anyone care?

Does anyone care? Does anyone care if I live or die? Do they care if they get up tomorrow morning and they find out that I didn't nor will I ever get up again? Would they mind if I wasn't in their life anymore?

Would they turn up at my funeral?

And it's all pressing down on her and she's too much of a coward anyway. The word taunts and mocks and tortures her and she's trying to escape from it but it's almost screaming in her ear that she's a coward and please please please shut up I don't want this please please leave me alone—

.

"You're my best friend, Lucy. I can't live without you." he murmurs so quietly that Lucy almost doesn't catch what he's saying.

He closes his eyes for a moment, looking down, wishing he could confess to Lucy how he really feels, wishing he could save her, help her, love her.

He jumps as he hears a large crack. Opening his eyes, he sees something. Lucy is gone.

.

And it's please please leave me alone and I can't deal with this please somebody help and it's oh god I don't deserve this please why is this happening to me?

Because it's not just one thing that has drove her to this point. It is everything, crushing down and burying her. It's the people who have broken her and yet she can't bring herself to blame them because it's her fault that she is dying inside it's her fault that she can't manage it and and oh god oh god oh god somebody help her, can't you see that she's breaking? Doesn't anybody fucking look?

.

The next morning, Louis goes to her house. All the pieces are fractured and distorted in his mind and it's all so unclear and he doesn't know he doesn't know it can't be real it can't be—

A rope. Lucy. A note. Rope. Lucy. Note. Lucy. Rope. Note. Lucy. Rope. Note.

lucyropenotelucyropenotelucy ropenotelucyropenote—

It's scrawled hastily and Louis can hear her say it to him and it tears at him and he finally understands how Lucy felt and he's screwed up so much because he was supposed to be the one who saved her but he hasn't he hasn't even come close because it's lucy-rope-note and that's all that he can see and nothing else registers, nothing at all.

Guess I wasn't as much as a coward as I thought I was.

—Lucy

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