Just Another Cinderella Story

Darcy's POV

Niall took his phone away from me and stormed out the door. I stood there just looking at my reflection in the mirror. The bruises seemed to get worse and worse every day. The stood out against my skin, which seemed to get paler and paler everyday.

The door slammed and silence followed after it. I could feel the boys' eyes on me. Ross and Lacey's, too.

One pair of eyes seemed to burn the most. I was most aware of those startling green eyes than any of the other pairs in the room.

"He's trying to help Darce," Lacey muttered cautiously. She knew how I got when we talked about reporting abuse. I did not want to attract any attention. I hated Urican, and I hated her daughters, and it would give me great pleasure to see them be punished for their crimes, but there was no telling that we would win against Urican and her many lawyers. People have recieved bruises like Darcy's and Ross' and Lacey's all on their own, no abuse required. Ross probably tripped and scratched his face on something sharp. Bruises formed from the fall. Lacey could have fallen off a scooter and rolled down a small hill. Me, I could have been riding a bike too fast down a tall hill, hit a rock, and tumbled down, bike and all. The number and color of the bruises had no say in this matter what-so-ever.

I rolled the sleeves down.

Out of sight. Out of mind.

I took one last look in the mirror, seeing my abnormally pale face. My grey eyes stood out from the rest of my body. In the mirror, I saw Harry looking at me.

And in those green eyes, I knew that he didn't agree with me. Bruises were still bruises. They were still there, no matter how many times I tried to hide them. He knew that someone couldn't get the type of bruises Ross, Lacey and I had without getting beaten. Niall thought that, too.

And even I felt so hopeless and powerless, knowing that Niall wasn't going to give up on this.

I agreed with them, too.

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Later that evening, Niall returned home, looking very pleased with himself.

"What happened?" Ross asked from where he sat on the couch, snuggling Lacey to him. She looked at Niall with curious eyes.

"The police have agreed to investigate further into this case," Niall smiled. He looked at me. I frowned at him. His eyes flickered to my arm, which had been uncovered slightly, just barely revealing the purple flesh that was my bruise.

When Niall looked at my bruises, I felt uncomfortable. He looked at them with such hate, with such a un-Niall like expression, that it made me think that the person looking at them wasn't even Niall. It was a man full of hate and anger that replaced the sweet, kind, loving, care-free, Irish boy who couldn't keep his hands off a plate of food.

Seeing him come back, the man that wasn't Niall, I carefully, rolled down my sleeve again, hiding the bruises from view.

And like Harry. he believed that hiding them made no difference.

They were still there.

The boys seemed to hate my scars and my bruises worse than they hated Lacey or Ross'. They looked at Ross with admiration for being so brave as to take claws to his face and a leash around his neck just for standing up for his love for Lacey.

They seemed to despise Lacey's bruises. She wasn't as bad as Ross and I were, because she was obedient. She didn't try to fight the current. She went with whatever she was told. That is what makes her so vulnerable. She lets people push her around. But along with being vulnerable, she has strength. People push her around, but Lacey is strong and mature enough to ignore them and just keep moving on.