(A/N: this was really funny for me to write but I think it's time I actually work on real writing projects especially because I turn nineteen in a week and I can't go through the shame of explaining to people at my college that I write satirical One Direction/Ratatouille crossover fanfiction. Thanks for reading to the 203 people who did and special thanks to my friends Alianna, Miles, Lauren, and Sam who thought this was funny and occasionally sent me ideas for new chapters. <3333)
I stood shaking in my size seven low top white converse with no grass stains as the murderous rat and mouse duo approached where the boys and I were standing at the end of the hallway. I grabbed for Harry who was standing next to me out of fear, but what could he do against our impending doom?
Remy broke into a run...coming straight towards me!! I tried to turn and run, but Remy grabbed a strand of hair that had fallen out of the messy bun of dirty blond locks that was pinned on top of my head. I screamed as he used the strand to swing on top of my head.
"Get back!" I yelled at the boys, tears streaming down my face, "He's going to try and kill you guys!"
They were all frozen, staring at me as I struggled with the rat on my head. I knew then that my fight was alone. It had always been...before with my vape addicted mom and now with Remy attempting to claim me as his newest harbinger of death and destruction. I reached for the rat but he lept out of my grasp, slashing at me with the knife--a cut which cut my index finger clean off. The pain was white-hot and I screamed, stumbling backward. Remy took my distraction to grasp firmly two strands of hair on my head and take control over my body. It was over before it even began. I looked from the bloody stump where my finger once was to the severed finger laying abandoned on the floor, choking back vomit and tears.
A few steps away Stuart Little was fighting Yoongi and Liam who had procured antique battle swords from behind the nearby hospital desk. They, at least, seemed to be winning their battle, but that was to be expected: what level of sword fight training was a bourgeoisie mouse going to train? He was far more equipped for exploiting workers than anything else. In true Marxist fashion, Zayn, icon of the proletariat, appeared behind Stuart and dealt him a kick that sent him spiraling across the hospital floor and out an open window.
Remy, from atop my head, let out a wounded snarl and turned me in the direction of Harry, who was still immobilized in shock.
"You killed my friend, so now I will kill yours!" He shrieked, forcing me to reach into the pocket of my hospital gown and pull out the glock that I always carried with me. Cold realization seeped into me as Remy forced me to bring the gun level with Harry's chest. I saw the same realization in his green ocular viewing devices. Before any of the other boys could move to Harry's aid, Remy gave my hair a yank, causing me to pull the trigger.
Harry had hit the floor before my scream was finished. He lay there unmoving...dead. Remy swung my arm around to point at Niall, but I would not allow for any more blood to be shed in that hospital. I used every ounce of effort I had in my body to swing my head back, causing him to go flying into the wall. I spun around as Remy gasped, "How--" and used the nub that was once my index finger to shoot him before he could even finish the sentence.
I was shaking and covered in rat guts as the hospital orderlies filtered in around me to make sure everyone was okay, to take away Harry's body. But despite all of this, I was finally free. I turned and left the hospital, my hospital gown flapping around me, the gun still clutched in my hand. With Harry gone it was time for me to make my own way. To find my real dad.