The Mistake (A One Direction Story)

Chapter Five, Part Two

"Aoife?" a whisper echoed quietly in the room.

I moaned softly - even moving an inch hurt too much. "Here to...here to hurt me more?" I asked weakly, painfully raising my head.

It was the Irish one, carrying a plastic bag. "No, no, of course not," he said hurriedly, coming to kneel before me. "Oh, that bastard," he hissed under his breath, inspecting my injuries.

"Screwed me up pretty bad, didn't he?" I laughed humorlessly, and then gasped as my ribs twinged with pain. "But why do you care, anyway?"

His blue-green eyes caught mine. "Of course I care. You might not be a good person, but I don't think anybody deserves this."

That broke me. I started crying again, tears streaming down my face in great rivers. "I -hic- don't under-hic-stand why you -hic- guys keep -hic- saying that! I'm not -hic- a bad person! P-please," I hiccuped. "I just want to go -hic- home,"

Niall sighed. "I'm afraid that's not going to happen until you tell us where the chip is."

I was too tired to bother asking him what the hell the chip was. He sighed again and reached into the bag, pulling out a bottle of water. I stared at it greedily, wishing I could grab it and guzzle it. To emphasize my feeling, I rattled my hands, causing the chains binding them to the chair behind my back to clank loudly.

Niall frowned. "I'm not going to untie you."

My eyes widened and I blushed furiously. "I'm not going to let you feed me like a baby!"

Niall folded his arms. "Then you're not going to get any food or water at all."

I glared at him. He glared back. Finally, the silence was broken by the rumbling of my empty stomach, causing Niall to crack a grin and me to sigh with defeat. "Fine."

Niall gently placed the water bottle to my lips, tilting it upwards to allow a steady stream to flow down my parched throat. Too soon, it seemed, the bottle was empty. Thankfully, it was switched out for a bowl of broth.

"Nothing solid?" I asked dejectedly as he raised the spoon to my lips.

Spooning the broth into my mouth, he shook his head. "No. You haven't eaten in several days, and if you eat something solid, you're likely to get sick."

Even as he said the words, I felt a slight wave of nausea roll through me. "You...you guys had me out for a while, huh?"

Niall opens his mouth as if to answer me, and then purses his lips. "You're sneaky, aren't ye? Trying to get answers outta me."

I shake my head quickly. "No, no, no! I was not! I just want to fucking know what happened to me! Jesus Christ you guys have to be the stupidest kidnappers ever."

I see a pang of hurt in his eyes, but ignore the guilty feeling in my stomach. For god's sake, I shouldn't feel guilty! They are the ones that kidnapped me and beat me up and drugged me and shit! Oh god, what's the matter with me!

"I think I have Stockholm syndrome," I mumble tiredly.

"Stock-wha?" asks Niall confusedly, filling my mouth with more broth.

"Stockholm syndrome." I repeat, my eyelids slowly sagging. "Why am I suddenly so tired, Niall?"

He sighs, looking at the broth in his hands. "Just go to sleep, Aoife."

Those cheeky little fuckers drugged me, didn't they?

But now is a really good time to take a nap, isn't it?

No, not really. Seeing as I have been kidnapped, I would go as far as to say NAPS AREN'T A GOOD IDEA AT ANY POINT!!

If only my brain could decide these sort of things, I thought as I slipped off into a drug-induced sleep.

Stockholm syndrome!

No, it's not a deadly disease.