“Hello?”
I don’t answer. I don’t want to answer. I try not to make any noise.
Footsteps. They come from somewhere downstairs. I listen as the sound moves around. Maybe he won’t see it. Maybe –
The footsteps stop abruptly. “What the fuck?!” Glass shatters downstairs.
Oh, no.
“Hello?!” The voice is louder this time. Way louder. He’s angry.
I cower in the corner. No, please don’t.
“You dumb bitch! Get out here right now!”
No. I start shaking. I can’t go out there. Not now. The clothes around me begin to vibrate, making me realize that I’m shaking a lot harder than I think I am. A hanger drops on my head. The end of the hook stabs my scalp. I reach up and touch the spot. When I bring my fingers back down, I see a just a bit of red. With only a tiny bit of light seeping in through the door cracks, I can’t tell if it’s blood or just paint from finger painting this morning at school. Either way, it hardly bothers me.
“What the fuck did you do?! Get the hell out here!”
No, don’t. Please just leave. Please go back to work. I don’t want to see you. Please.
He doesn’t call out for a while. After the pause, his voice is so calm, it scares me even more. “Oh, okay. We’re playing hide and seek, are we?”
My body begins to convulse. I grab my pigtails and cover my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut tightly.
“I think I remember playing this when I was your age. Let’s see… now, where did I like to hide back then?”
Sweat droplets form on the back of my neck, even though it’s not hot in here.
He’s walking up the stairs, I can hear him.
In exactly twenty three seconds, a shadow passes by the crack between the closet door and the floor. It disappears for a moment, but reappears again. It stays there.
I can smell the stench of beer through the wooden door. Suddenly, I feel nauseous.
The door is slowly pulled open. Bright light flashes into my eyes. I blink a few times to adjust to the sun-lit room. I stare at the blurry silhouette in front of me. Gradually, the image comes back into focus.
Slightly yellowed teeth.
Disturbing smile.
Cracked lips.
Tired eyes.
Ruffled grey hair.
Loose tie.
Rough hands.
“Found you.”
The rough hands reach for my neck before I can scream.
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More Than What Meets The Eye (One Direction - Niall)
FanfictionWhen normal people look at me, they turn to whisper to their friends. I hear what they say. They say, “Wow. Look at that girl's eyes! She’s not actually that pretty though, I guess. Her clothes look expensive. Her parents must be wealthy folk. What...
