Left Alone To Cry.

Chapter 23: Standing tall

WARNING: Self harm references. (might be triggering for some)

NIALL'S POV

Early wake up today. Couldn't stand sleeping any longer. The excitement was kicking my guts like a baby in the mother's womb. The taxi driver is coming to get me today. He's going to drive me back to London. He didn't tell me more. But I don't care for now. I'll be back in London and that's all that matters. I'll finally come back and see the boys again. I'll prove them that all what they believe true isn't. I don't hate them, I don't hate the fans, I still love to sing... I'm still here. Standing tall. 

I'm already ready. I have my coat and shoes on. I even took a shower. Who would've believed. 

I had a bit forgotten about my self hygiene. I was so blinded by the pain to remember I had to clean myself. It's been about what? One month I'm missing? Two? Or only 2 weeks? I seriously don't know, I don't even know what day is today. But all I know is even if it's been two months or two weeks, I haven't washed myself since then.

It felt good to feel the water fall on me. For some reasons, I felt like it was someone massaging me. I didn't feel alone for the 10 minutes I've been in the shower...

I also took advantage of it to wash my four wounds properly. They started to form scars but not completely. It bled a bit in the shower.  It's still only dry blood filling the cuts. They still burn, but I’m okay with it. For me, those scars will be like war scars. They'll show me when I'm older that I've come through it. That it gets better.

It's been about two hours now that I'm standing in front of the window, staring at anything that moves outside. The few people that were walking on the street probably mistaken me for a creep or a pedophile or something, but I don't care. All I want to see is the yellow taxi drive to my parking lot.

I packed everything that could help me. I brought my laptop, can certainly help me for a lot of things. I brought a few clothes, the paper with the taxi driver's number on, the money left in my wallet that's been resting on my bedroom floor for a long time, my calendar with the concert dates and a few other things.

They're all in my backpack. I'm ready. 

I'm cracking my knuckles and squeezing the skin of my hands again. I'm stressed out. What if the taxi driver was lying? Maybe he won't come? Maybe I had fake hopes? What if...

"Shut up, Niall." I tell myself. "He certainly didn't lie to you."

I put my chin up, trying to prove myself I believe in what I just said.

One more hour of waiting in front of the window and creeping out the people walking outside. 

I leave my eyes from the window and turn around.

I shout with all the power in my lungs, red of anger.

"I should've known!" I exclaim, throwing my backpack to the floor. "I should've known he was lying! Who would want to help me anyway! Why did I even clean myself for that coward..." 

As I say my last word, I hear the roar of a car outside.