fix you (Niall Horan)

prologue

jordan chase- maia mitchell

morgan winters- michelle trachtenberg

tom- robbin williams

paul higgins- himself

ned- alexander ludwig

lucas jones- logan lerman

SKYLAR

I sat down in front of my mirror, examining myself. I had a pretty fresh black eye, some old scars on my forehead, and deep, dark under eye bags. My hair was in a very messy pony tail, and my shirt had some unknown stain on it. I leaned forward, pulling my eyelid down. My chocolate brown eyes were unusually dark.

"Beautiful," I muttered sarcastically. I glanced at my phone to check the time. 10:43 p.m. Jack was probably going to be back soon, so I decided that I would try and get some food before I have to talk to him. My hand graced my door knob as I looked down to my right. My go back was staring right at me, as if silently pleading with me not to go downstairs.

My stomach growled loudly. I put a hand over it, trying to soothe my hunger. I hadn't been downstairs since this morning, when Jack gave me my new bruise. I locked myself in my room all day and had nothing to eat. I was starving.

"Maybe another day," I said to the bag, almost waiting for an answer. I paused, and opened my door. I poked my head out, looking left, right, and left again. As I walked to the staircase, I heard the front door slam shut. I stopped and took a shaky deep breath.

"Skylar?" He asked. I walked the rest of the way down the steps.

"Hey Jack," I shrugged. His dark eyes pierced through mine, inspecting me. They were bloodshot, and tired. He slugged right past me, opening the fridge. He bent over to look inside.

"I see you restocked my beer supply, good girl," He praised, cracking one open. I chewed on my lip, slowly making my way into the kitchen.

"Can I...have some food?" I asked, bracing myself for his answer, or his hit. He looked at me, annoyed.

"Get it yourself, lazy ass," He muttered, going into his office and shutting the door. I breathed a sigh of relief, but also rolling my eyes. I can't remember the last time he was't drunk or high off his ass.

I opened the cabinet and pulled out a loaf of bread. I opened it and heard a grumble from the office. I stopped, stiffening and debating on whether or not to make a run for it back to my room. Whenever I was in my room, he never seemed to bother me that much. Probably because he forgot I was even there.

I presumed to make myself a peanut butter sandwich, twisting the lid closed and resting it on the counter. As I turned around, my hand smacked into the jar, knocking it onto the floor. I winced, and I could hear him barreling out of the office.

"What the fuck?!" He yelled, pointing to the broken jar. I bent down and started to pick the pieces up, frantically trying to get it out of his sight.

"Why can't I have some peace and quiet around here!?" He shouted, grabbing my arm. He had that look in his eyes. Pure rage.

"I'm so sorry, I'll clean it up I promise-" I squeaked, trying to yank my hand free. He dragged me to the other side of the kitchen, throwing open a drawer. He reached inside and pulled out a shiny, silver knife.

"NO! Wait please! Please!" I cried. He pressed the blade hard into my skin, so deep I feel like it could go all the way through. I screamed in pain, trying to use my other hand to push the knife back. I panicked. The pain was so intense I felt like I was going to pass out. I fumbled around the open drawer and picked up the first thing I could find, thrusting it into his gut. He let out a grunt, leaning over in pain. He let go of my arm and the knife and I sprinted up the steps.

My vision was starting to shake, from the adrenaline and the pain. I lost an alarming amount of blood, and I knew that I couldn't stay to try and take care of it myself. I grabbed my go back and wrapped an old shirt around my arm, clutching it to my chest. I tossed my already packed bag out of the window, taking one last look around my room. I sighed sadly, wanting to take every memory of my mother with me. I scooted out of the window and on to the roof, jumping off.

I started jogging away from the house, into the street. I took my phone out of my pocket and called Lucas, my neighbor.

"Sky? You good?" He asked, I could hear him sitting up.

"Can you take me to the hospital? I-uh-My arm is cut up really bad and I need your help," I pleaded. It didn't take much to convince him to go, so I ran to his house. The pain was getting to the point where I couldn't walk straight anymore. I saw Lucas's house and he was already in his car, started up and ready to go.

"Come on!" He shouted, pointing behind me. Jack was running down the street after me. I bolted into Lucas's car, and we sped away.

"What the fuck happened? Shit Sky," He said as he saw my arm.

"I'm fine," I winced, as Lucas pressed on the gas.