Darkness.
That's all I know.
I don't know how long I've been here. But all I can feel is the cold, hard chair draining all the heat from my body.
All I know is that I was on my way to find Zayn. Or was it the bathroom?
To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if my name isn't Niall Horan, but Peter Joles or something. At this point, I can barely keep my head up, my chin resting against my bruised chest. My body is beaten and broken right now.
It's my fault though. They told me to either call them or get a fist in my side. I chose the fist.
I'm not going to urge them to do anything they don't want.
Niall Horan, or Peter Joles, will not back down. Niall is the person who gets kidnapped in a hospital. Niall is the guy tied to a metal chair barely able to feel his body from the lack of water and malnourishment.
There's a bright light again.
Am I dead? Did my heart finally stop beating in my chest? Am I finally free?
The light that gave me a sliver of hope is soon shaded by a silhouette. The man moving closer, causing me to squeeze my eyes shut in fright. Every muscle in my ready to crash and drown body tenses up to the point of them shaking from the straining force.
Soon enough, a puff of warm air hits my face, the voice I only associate with pain speaking against the skin of my cheek, "You, Niall, get to go home now."
Before I even get the chance to react, a loud bang erupts in the room I've been held for far too long.
I feel nothing now.
The instant panic from the blast, gone.
I can't feel any of the agonizing pain anymore either.
I feel like I'm floating.
I'm not in that prison anymore. I'm watching myself. But I don't look like Niall Horan anymore. I look like I've been put through a blender.
My hair is stick to my scalp, looking dark brown from the dried blood clumping it together. The fresh crimson still trickling slowly down the skin of my face.
But I'm not moving.
My broken body is completely still. Bound to the furniture. Stuck.
My chest doesn't rise and fall. The weight of my head tilting to the side. Completely limp. No movement. Not even a crease between my eyebrows.
My eyes shut close. Not even a hint of movement playing on my chapped lips. Every limb in my body unstirring.
The man in the chair was serene. Void of life. Dead
The once sparkling blue eyes that shone with life, are dull and empty underneath the skin covering them.
The heart in the man's chest that used to beat for his friends. His family. His music. Completely still. The thump that once signalled blood streaming from the muscle, circulating the now ghostly body.
-
My body is being jerked awake by a high pitch scream being ripped from someone lungs.
It takes me a second to realise that those are my lungs. In my chest. Surrounding my beating heart. My eyes brimming with salty tears as my body is covered in a layer of cold sweat.
I'm used to this.
I'm used to waking up. My throat sore form screaming. But I'm not used to being alone when I do.
I haven't slept alone since before it all happened. The boys haven't let me.
But now, we've been on the road for about two weeks. And I finally managed to convince them to let me sleep alone after denying me it for so long out of the goodness of their hearts.
But the biggest difference is that I remember what happened. I'm left gasping for air from the clear images and emotions assaulting my poor mind. The feeling of being tied to that chair burned into my body, now identifiable.
The throbbing in my entire body from the pain, but also the utter exhaustion from being drained like an apple being made to apple juice. No energy is left in my body to do anything but lie completely still and weep quietly into my pillow.
The only noise escaping me being whimpers as the same feeling of not being able to move, or make a sound washes over me. Only making the tears flow faster.
Until I can barely get oxygen into my lungs. The lungs who won't even work properly as I remember the three days I was locked in the horrendous room.
Every minute of being there now feeling as it's being played in slow motion. Like a horror movie playing on repeat in my mind. I try to cut the power to the monitor, but I can't find the button to shut it off.
Leaving me to spiral in the agonising memories that my brain had kept locked away until now.
The memories that I have wished ever since I woke up in that hospital bed would come back. Feeling so fucking powerless because I had no idea what happened to me. Or why certain noises would threaten to send me spiralling.
But now I really wish they would've stayed locked there. Burn away. Extinguished.
Because now I feel like I am drowning. Water filling my lungs like air as I kick my feet desperately to make it to the surface to get just a breath of oxygen. But my body is weighed down by flashbacks.
Leaving me to suffer and die in silent anguish. Tormented by the suppressed images and sensations unleashing hell in my mind.
-
Zayn
"I'll go wake the Irish beast. Not all of us should have to suffer at the wrath of a tired Niall Horan who hasn't had his breakfast yet." With that I let the others make their way to the tour bus ahead of me, our next stop being Chicago.
St. Paul was a great show though. Last night being my favourite one so far. I'm actually looking forward to the six hours we're going to spend on the tour bus. Which mean I can sleep for as long as I want. That is unless we get a call from management about something they want to yell at us for. Or if there's an interview we have to do on our day off.
They treat us like we're still the children we were eleven years ago. Which honestly is extremely frustrating. But there is nothing we can do about it.
On a more positive note, the support we've gotten since the tour started is insane. It melts my heart to log onto Twitter and see what people tweet about us. The pure, unconditional love they've given us since 2010 and continue to do.
Some of them still blame me for the hiatus. Even though I can understand why, it still stings to know I hurt them like that.
I knock at Niall's hotel room, not hearing anything from behind the black door, I fish the key card out of my pocket, swiping it over the scanner to unlock it.
When it beeps, signalling it's open, I push the door open, stepping into the room hollering, "I've got food!", making my voice vibrate as I wave the brown paper bag from MacDonald's around the room. We went to McDonald's before we packed to get some food since it's too early for the hotel buffet to be open yet.
I flick on the lights, seeing a lump underneath the white covers. Slightly shaking.
What the hell?
I rush over to the bed, carefully sitting down next to where Niall is curled up. The worry escalating when I hear the whimpers coming out of him now that I'm close.
"Niall?" I hesitantly shove my hand under the duvet, leaving it right next to him to grab if he wants to hold on to it. "Can you tell me that you're not dying? I need to know if I have to call someone."
When Niall doesn't do or say anything, I curse under my breath as I lift the duvet off him, throwing it to the floor.
Niall immediately scoots closer to me, resting his head in my lap without a second thought for comfort as he keeps crying. My sweats are already soaked with his salty tears that were already coating his face.
Seeing Niall practically curled in on himself. Covered in a layer of sweat as he hides his face in the material of my lilac sweatpants. A sheer layer of sweat covering his shaky, shirtless body. The pained noises escaping his mouth feels like a slab to the heart every time.
So I sit there with him. Silent tears running down my cheeks as Niall holds on to me for dear life, battling whatever demons are tormenting him with all he has.
Until his sniffles die down and his voice, hoarser than I've ever heard it, pulls my attention down to him. I've avoided looking at him until now because of the pain it caused me. But when he speaks, my jaw drops to the floor at his words.
"I remember everything, Zee. All of it."
Niall hasn't been able to remember anything about those three days. He told me a little while ago that he went to Simon to get him to tell him anything, but Simon had shut him down brutally. Which is when he'd told me he wanted to get a tattoo.
Niall loves his arse tattoo more than his guitar at this point.
"What do you remember?", I breathe out, still not able to process it properly. Quickly adding, "You don't need to tell me anything, of course, bub. But it might help."
Niall remains in the same position as he warns me, "If you interrupt, I will shave your head in your sleep." I chuckle at him, "I look great with a buzz."
"Yeah, yeah. You look great in everything, Zayn. Now listen.", he waves me off, making my stomach drop immediately as he explains everything. The rage building inside me becoming dangerous the further he goes on.
Every tear that rolls down his precious cheeks makes me imagine another fist connecting with their jaws.
I am not a violent person, but I want to hurt them.
I want to make them bleed.
If it was only me who would be affected, I wouldn't have anything against getting on a flight and landing myself in jail.
Once Niall is done, having taken breaks where he could barely breathe from the images in his head. The things making me scared for him like kids are petrified of monsters under the bed.
The agony in his voice as he recalled the three days sent stabbing pains through my heart, having to force my sobs that threaten to spill down with everything in me. This was about Niall. And I know that if I cry, he'll feel bad immediately and lock himself away to be eaten by the wolves alone.
Now I can barely hear him cry, his body having been through so much. He told me how everything that happened, it's like he's living through it all again. The pain he felt then, seeming as real now. Even though there isn't as much as a bruise on his body.
"You said you have food.", Niall croaks out, making my body sag in relief. When Niall wants food, it's a good day.
I chuckle, scratching his scalp like I've done for the better part of an hour now, knowing that it soothes Niall, "Yeah, brought you some food from McDonald's. But I'm gonna have to get up because it's been abandoned by the door, Bub."
Niall groans, "You just had to drop it once you saw, me huh? Idiot."
I feign offence. Pinching his side lightly, "Not my fault I love and care about you. Idiot."
Suddenly the beep of the lock unlocking, the door flying open and Louis barging in with his eyes covered by his forearm, hair in every direction, "Put your clothes on, boys. Don't feel like seeing my best mates fucking like rabbits when you've been alone in here for one and a half fucking hours."
That sends Niall and I into a fit of laughter, his body shaking with laughter now, not pain. My own hunching over to catch my breath at Louis' fucking lack of filter. I swear that man would simply ask Obama, no hesitation, whether he or Harry tops.
"Sorry, mate. We just finished. Niall needed a lil attention."
Niall slaps my thigh, arms still weak, "Jerk. I just gave you the best orgasm of your life and you chose to hand me out to the wolves. That's how you choose to repay me?" His voice is full of laughter and amusement, probably having expected me to bite Louis' head off.
"I hate you guys.", Louis sighs, picking up the brown paper bag to throw it on us before plopping down on the bed too, "I'm guessing you've worked up an appetite."
Niall scoffs, reaching around me to take hold of the food faster than my brain can process, "As a matter of fact, I have."
Louis' mouth forms into a smirk as he gestures to me, "By the way, Liam is going to have your head for worrying him."
I shrug, "At least I'll die for a good cause."
-
Hey!
I have no clue where to start. I am jumping off the walls in excitement for tonight. Far Away from home. I don't even have words.
Love on tour.
Just, there is so much shit happening my brain is a mess of jumbled thoughts and I'll prob pass away
Are you going to see Louis' live or going to Love on tour?
I am sorry for not updating, but I've been working on some new projects. Check out my new fic that I'm writing with a friend called Through The Dark - Moments In Time if you want.
I'm going to try my best to upload here as often as possible and not let it go two weeks again.
If you want to check out my art, it kinda sucks but it's a huge passion of mine, I've got it on insta. my user is still died.in.the.am
anyway, I really hope you liked this chapter and are taking care of yourself.
I'm always here if you need to talk.
I LOVE YOU!!!!
Tpwk!!
- Emily xx