Italics are flashbacks.
POWER DYNAMICS
"Or are you just looking for another way to make my life miserable?" Harvey yelled, one arm around Louis' throat, pinning him to the wall, the other drawn back into a fist. "Answer me!"
Fists collided with flesh, breathless cries rang out with every blow. "Please!Greg, stop!" It happened the same way every time. Over something trivial – that was always Louis' fault – or over nothing at all.
Louis stayed put, eyes wide, frozen in fear. Harvey closed the space between them, bringing their faces just inches apart, and whispered. Whatever he said caused Louis to tremble, as if scotch-soaked breath carried the weight of death.
Greg's poison of choice was rum, and pired with cocaine, there was no controlling his temper. It didn't matter how much Louis protested, yelled, or even cried; there was no stopping Greg. He gets what he wants, when he wants it. And Louis knew it all too well.
Knew it when he was forced onto his knees; knew it when he was told how useless he was; knew it when Greg pinned him down, and climbed on top of him, ignoring his frantic cries; knew it when he had it explain his injuries at work the next day. He was under Greg's control, and she couldn't escape.
So, when Louis saw the rage in Harvey's eyes, he cowered. Not just a flinch, but a terrified, uncontrollable quivering coursing through every muscle in his body.
"Please...don't." the hoarse whisper clawed its way out of Louis's throat, as he braced to receive the coming blows. The room was silent, save for the sound of Louis's ragged breaths tearing through his chest. Noticing Louis's reaction, Harvey released him.
"Louis...? You okay?" Without Harvey's weight to support him, Louis slid to the floor, his knees giving way beneath him. He cried, his sobs ugly and broken.
He thought the old wounds had healed, that the nightmares of helplessness were over. He was sorely mistaken. He was just as weak as she was back then, and he hated himself just as much.