NIALL HORAN FANFICTION.
***
I wake up. I look to the left, there he is. I don’t know who he is, just another result of a bad night. Vodka is my only friend.
“Hey baby, why don’t you let me cook you some breakfast?” The random man says. I shake my head. He’s older than me, by a long shot. I need to go home.
“No, but thank you, I had a lovely night.” I say, very politely. I think prostitution is the way forward for me.
“Wait, how old are you?” The old, naked man asks. He sits up, shocked in case he’s done anything wrong.
“Older than you think.” I lie whilst putting my clothes on. I’m eighteen, so its legal, but he looks about forty five. I don’t want that to burden me. The old man smiles, I smile back then run down his stairs. I open the door.
“Where am I?” I shout up.
“Westend.” Oh, cool.
“Okay, thank you, bye.” I then walk away from the house. Half way round the corner, I’m in the city. Walking past busy working people, and lots of tourists, dressed as a lap dancer who will bang you for fifteen pound, isn’t fun. My dress barely goes past my hips and my boots are at my knee.
“Slut.” Some girl sneers to her friends. They all laugh. It is funny, she thought I didn’t hear her. I smile, in a bitchy way, that shut her up. I thought, I turned my back and they began swearing at me. I forgot how fucking annoying bullies are.
I carry on walking, until I find a taxi. The taxi ride back is slow, I thought the driver would flirt me but he didn’t. Which is good, because I’d probably end up doing something I’d regret. I get out at my flat. I walk up the stairs, its basically a shame walk. Like it is most days. My head is hurting, and I’m freezing.
I open the front door, and go to my bedroom. I lay on my bed, and think about how slutty I am.
