Haunting Memories (a Niall Horan love story)

Chapter 2

Arianna’s POV

Two weeks went by without any more troubles and without so much as a sound from Jeremy. The boys were also still texting me, and Emma’s mom was still at our house often, trying to communicate to my mom, seeing as she was the only one who could get through to her at times. Times when Mom relived the moments before Dad’s death.

“Arianna? Come down! It’s dinnertime!” Mom cried out a couple of days after the Jeremy incident. I was still pretty mad at her for making us move to England for no apparent reason.

“CALM DOWN I’M IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING!!!” I yelled back. She didn’t care. She was the kind of mother where if she called you down for dinner, you had to go right then.

“Ari! Come down this instant! Arianna Rose Scott, come down to—” Suddenly, she stopped, and I heard a dull thud. I leaped out of my chair and jumped down the stairs, taking two at a time. In the kitchen, I saw my mom, ungracefully slumped against the counter, eyes closed. I gasped. What the…

My mind began to work automatically and I ran for the phone and dialed 911, and cursed as I remembered it was different for England. I raked my brain for the emergency number, and finally dialed 112, the right number. Hopefully.

“Hello, what is the emergency?” a female voice with a heavy British accent asked.

“My mom… She was calling me down for dinner and just fainted. In the middle of her sentence.” I tried to sound calm, unsuccessfully. I gave the operator my address and whatnot, and glumly waited beside my unconscious mother, checking to make sure the faint pulse didn’t stop. I heard a sharp rap at the door, and ran to get it, swiping my tears away and swallowing my raw grief.

“Are you the one who called?” a police officer asked. I could only nod. I showed them to my kitchen. They put Mom on a stretcher and carried her outside. The police officer who greeted me at the door put a hand on my shoulder.

“I think you’d best stay home,” he told me in a British accent. I felt anger boil up inside me. Did they not think I was mature? Despite the rage, I nodded. Why did I nod? Some automatic reaction to the situation, I guessed. The officer looked at me with sympathy in his eyes. I could barely stand the pity, the sympathy.

“We’ll give you a call when anything… major happens. But even if she ends up okay, don’t expect her to come back for a couple of days.” I gulped and nodded. “I trust you’ll be alright for that short duration of time?” Again, another nod. I felt so numb inside. I gave the officer my cell number, and shut the door. They were gone, along with my mother.

Even if she ends up okay… those five little words bounced around in my head. I went upstairs to my room, lying in bed motionless. What if she didn’t end up okay? I pushed the thought out of my mind. Those words were soon after replaced by the word, Orphan. The inevitable.

That was when I heard the forceful thump of the door, the heavy breathing, the husky voice.

“Arianna, I’m back!” Jeremy called out in a sing-song voice. Shit. I grabbed a tennis racket from my closet, and faced my door, heard the heavy thumps coming closer and closer.