Fiona's POV
As I lay on my bed, watching my arm bleed, I decided enough was enough.
I was getting out of this hellhole.
Niall came in a little later, and I pretended to be even weaker then I was, though I was pretty weak. He helped bandage my wounds, gave me some Tylenol, then left quietly.
Why didn't I plan better? I should've at least tried to lock myself in a bathroom or something, instead of letting 4 physchopaths beat the crap out of me.
The next week, I acted like I was in extreme pain, where in reality, I recovered reasonably quickly. I had a black belt. I'd been in fights before.
The boys all came in, one by one, to apologize. Apparently, I had accidentally drugged them via sharpie. As believable as that sounded, I knew it wasn't the only reason.