The Mistake (A One Direction Story)

Chapter Nine

Bright Days: Orphanage for Girls To Be Closed.

In a vicious, tragic crime, the two nuns, Sisters Darcy Fallburen and Fiona Hoff, were murdered on Monday the 14th of July. Fallburen and Hoff were the caretakers of a small orphanage for girls in Pennsylvania, where they cared for a group of girls between five and seventeen. Libby McKinley, one of the sixteen girls staying there, says that she saw a red-headed and middle-aged man leaving the orphange only a few minutes before the bodies of Fallburen and Hoff were found.

Even more disturbing, all sixteen of the girls state that one of their number, a sixteen-year-old girl by the name of Aoife Kyers, was taken by a man only two days before the murder of the Sisters. Kyers has yet to be found, and a search will be ensued. However, the police say that it is likely that Kyers ran away when she heard of the deaths of the sisters, scared by the thought of being sent to a foster home as the other children will be.

Pennsylvania police ask that residents report all suspicious acts in the area, and notify authorities at once if they see Aoife Kyers. Enclosed is a picture of the runaway orphan and a drawing of the man supposed to have murdered Falleburn and Darcy.

Beneath the sickening article were two pictures - one was of me, my red hair blowing crazily around me as I smiled at the camera. I vividly remembered the taking of that picture - we had gone on a nature hike, and I was posing on the top of a cliff, with a beautiful forest layed out below me.

The second picture was a rough sketch of Miles Nicholas. They had gotten his nose and chin wrong, but he was easily recognizable.

Miles. Miles killed the sisters, and destroyed simultaneously my home, my family and my future.

"THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" I screamed suddenly, shoving wildly at the nearest boy closest to me - it was Harry.

He stumbled back, bewildered, staring at me. "You sons of bitches were the one who were chasing Miles. YOU prompted him into getting me as a distraction. It's all your f-fault." the last sentence was broken as I collapsed onto the bed I had so recently been freed from, sobbing.

My heart twisted as I thought of Sister Darcy, teaching us math and science, gently scolding us for misbehaving. And Sister Fiona, cooking and cleaning, teaching us social studies, history and geography, even art.

I cried harder, my mind going to Libby, Ainsley, Megan - my best friends, now gone, put into foster homes where I would never see them again. A tentative hand touched my shoulder and I whirled around to see Zayn, his dark eyes filled with remorse and pity.

"Aoife, can we-"

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me." I hissed, putting all of my venom and hate into my words. "This is your fault."

Zayn pulled his hand back, a hurt look passing over his face, and stepped back. I sat up, not caring that my vibrant red curls were a mess or that my glasses were crooked, or even that tears were dripping onto my already stained and ripped shirt. I put all of my fury and sadness into an icy glare that I leveled evenly on the boys.

"Get the FUCK out." I said quietly, dangerously. "Don't look at me, don't try to talk to me, don't even think about me. Leave, right now."

Harry, his eyes red, opened his mouth. I met his gaze silently, daring him to say something. He hesitated and then closed his mouth, his shoulders slumping as he walked out of the room with the rest of the lads.

I watched them go, tears still trickling down my cheeks, until the door shut with a quiet click. I turned and buried my face in a pillow, letting out a wrenching sob.

"Why?!" I screamed furiously, the cry muffled by the pillow. "Why?" I whispered again, curling in on myself as I mourned the loss of my family.

**

Hours later, I opened my eyes, swollen and dry from crying. My hair was tangled around me and my pillow was damp with tears. I sniffled through a stuffed nose and stood slowly, steadying myself on the bed as the world spun around me.

I shuffled to the door, pulling it open and nearly tripping over the box on the threshold. I glared at it for a full minute before leaning down, picking it up, and carrying it back into what I had come to think of as my room.

Taped to the top was a note, written in slanted half-cursive.

Dear Aoife,

We can't even begin to tell you how sorry we are, for everything. For treating you like we did, even when we had no right, and not listening to you when you tried to tell us that you were innocent. We do accept that it is our fault that the sisters are dead, and we will do everything we possibly can to make it up to you.

Enclosed you will find shower supplies (generously donated by Zayn) and you can find a bathroom down the hall, first door on the left. Also, Niall gave up some sweats and Harry a t-shirt. Possibly too big, but it was the best we could do.

You have the house to yourself for now, we decided you would want some time alone and went out for the night. We'll be back in the morning, around 10 am.

We hope you can begin to forgive us.

xx the lads

I read and re-read the note, astonished by the kindness of my kidnappers. I mean, I guess it was some sort of a mistake, on their part, I thought. That doesn't change the fact that it was them that ruined me.

I sighed and shoved the thought from my mind, grabbing the plastic bag of shower things and following the note's directions to a spacious bathroom. I turned on the water, stripping out of my filthy clothes and filling the sink with soapy water to let them soak. I pulled my square glasses off and set them on the counter and stepped into the steamy hot water of the shower.

Oh, but was it heaven. The hot water cascaded down my back, soaking into my curls and washing away what felt like weeks of grime and sweat. I grabbed a bottle of sweet-smelling shampoo and another of conditioner and quickly lathered up my hair, loving the feeling of clean, silky locks rather than the dirty, knotted ones I had become accustomed to. Zayn had even thought to provide a razor, so I shaved, reveling in the sensation of smooth legs.

After a long time spent under the stream of water, I finally shut it off and stepped out of the shower, drying myself with the fluffy towel. Using one hand to hold the towel around my body, I grabbed my bra and panties out of the soapy water where they had been soaking and wrung them out, using a hair dryer I found to dry them completely.

I made my way back to my room, pulling on my more-or-less clean underclothes and the grey sweats and black t-shirt provided by Harry and Niall. The sweats doubled as socks, they were so long, and the shirt had to be tucked in unless I wanted it to reach my knees.

I towel-dryed my damp hair and manhandled it into a high ponytail, not caring that several curls fell out to frame my face. Slipping on my glasses, I mustered the courage to venture out and explore the place I was staying at.

It turned out to be a hotel room, a relatively nice one. There were four other rooms besides mine, two of which had to be shared. There was also another bathroom, a living room, and a mini-kitchen.

Much to my delight, the kitchen was stocked, so I helped myself. I had lost weight over the week and a half that the lads had kept me, and I took it upon myself to gain it back all in one sitting.

Fuck it, I thought with a grin as I pulled a bag of chips, a tub of ice cream and a box of hot pockets out of cupboards and the freezer. I quickly prepared a feast of chemical-filled deliciousness and proceeded to stuff my face.

An hour later, feeling like an overweight Umpa-Loompa, I waddled to my ex-prison and fell face first onto the bed, asleep instantly.

Not once did I think about escape, and boy, I should've.

***