Adopted by One Direction

The End

I awoke with a start, sweat dripping down my neck and body as I ran a hand through my damp hair and looked around at the same surroundings I had been seeing for weeks. A dingy cot, a small toilet, a single 35 watt light bulb hung in the middle of the ceiling and illuminating only a small portion of the room. The only other light that came in the cramped room was from a small boarded window where light peeked through the slats in the nailed boards. That's how I knew it was morning or night. Other than that, I had no fucking idea. No idea when I would get out of this prison, no idea what day it was, no idea what my friends and family were doing at the moment. All I knew is I was trapped here, and Gracie was with me

I looked down at the small sleeping figure curled up beside and ran my hand through her light, curly hair holding onto a small section for a moment as I felt tears welling back up in my eyes. The scar on her cheek was ragged but healing nicely, and I felt my stomach for my own scar the night the son of a bitch had come home-wherever home was-drunk and took a knife to Gracie. I stepped in and knocked the hell out of him and for that he had slashed the side of my stomach. It hurt like hell, I won't lie, but I'm just glad it was a slash and not a stab. And neither of our scars were deep. Just painful.

I risked a glance at Gracie once more and felt a few tears sliding down my cheek at the helpless human being who depended so much upon me to keep her safe, and now look what I had done. This whole parent thing was such a cluster-fuck. Maybe I should've left Gracie alone. Let her get adopted by another family. Someone nice and normal who could protect her better and give her a more stable life. I sure as hell couldn't even do that much. All the kidnappings, nightmares, not to mention life on the road with the band and I; none of that is the ideal way to bring up a child.

The door to our small room burst open and in came the rat bastard himself, holding an AMT Hardballer pistol and pointing it directly at us. "Up." He barked in the familiar, gruff, chain smoking voice. "Get up. Get up." He cocked the gun and walked over to us.

During my stay here I learned that the fewer questions asked, the better. I asked too many the first night and now I think my leg is fractured. Gracie questioned his motives a few times and now she sports a black eye, and complains of her ribs hurting. I gently woke Gracie and put my finger over my lips when she looked up at me with those innocent blue eyes, but immediately kept her mouth shut.

I shakily stood, my bum leg making sounds of protest as I did so, and slid Gracie into my arms as I felt the cold metal of the gun against my worn t-shirt as the pistol was pressed into my back. "Walk." The voice demanded as we began moving, slowly I might add, due to my leg. Though I guess one of my captive's saving graces was that he actually allowed me to take my time getting down the narrow steep steps.

We were herded out to a small Chevy pickup, though I couldn't make out the color or any other distinguishing aspects thanks to how dark it was, and were forced into the back seat while the man made his way up to the driver's seat and started the engine, pulling away from the small shack and started down the road. "We are gonna see just how much your little boyfriends love you." The man sneered before coughing a few times and lit a cigarette. I could feel Gracie burying her head in my chest and felt the convulsions of her body as she tried not to cough. I tapped my fingers on the window button but resisted rolling it down and just hugged Gracie closer.

Damn it guys, where ever you are, hurry up and get us out!

xXx

About fifteen minutes later the truck pulled to a halt and the driver killed the engine, stepping out and closing the door with a sharp slam that caused both Gracie and I to flinch in our seats. I ran my hand through her hair as we waited in silence in the truck for a few minutes. 'So this is where it ends?' I thought cynically. 'This is where I'm gonna get it? In the back of a truck that reeks of second hand smoke in the middle of God-Knows-Where, clutching the best thing that ever happened to me in my whole life?' I just prayed we got to stay in the truck when we were iced, but with the way my luck is going so far it'd be no surprise if we were taken far away from this truck and executed in the woods or something. Or shit, string us up by our necks to a tall tree limb.