Haven- 39
"...if you must mourn, mourn with the moon and stars up above... if you must die, sweetheart, die knowing your life was my life's best part..."
Ella.
My face was burning. My head was throbbing. My heart was beating wildly enough to feel it in every limb. Bu-dump, bu-dump, bu-dump. And faster then, when Niall looked up from his spot across from me.
Worst of all? I had to pee. Bad.
Okay. So maybe that wasn't the worst of my situation, but it was relevant.
There was a door in this room that suggested it might've been a bathroom, and the curiosity to confirm that became a need.
I opened my mouth, testing the waters. If he yelled at me from merely attempting to talk, we would have issues. Luckily, he only lifted an eyebrow in controlled amusement.
I tried, "I have to pee."
He watched me for a long, bated moment. "Oh, really?"
My features compressed. Did he think I was joking? I wish.
"Yes." My voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. Someone afraid; scared. Someone speaking through shaky lips. I realized, painfully, that that was me.
"And then, what? You hit me behind my head while I'm not looking?" he sneered. "Run away? Try to find your little boy-toy?"
"Well, shit, all I had to do was use the bathroom. But you paint a pretty picture now that I think about it."
In what felt like only a gust of wind, he crossed the room, a fistful of my hair already angling me to his face. "I never knew you had such a mouth on you," he whispered sardonically. My jaw clenched, my eyes watered. "Seems to me we could put it to good use, don't you think?"
Along with my burning cheek, victim to his knuckles only minutes ago, my head was burning too. And with the overwhelming pressure that came with my bladder's fullness, I was finding the idea of hitting him upside his head far too satisfying.
I wriggled, hating the force he had on me. I didn't want to see his face. Not like this, not ever again. "Let me go."
He laughed, the sound tormenting to my ears. "I think I could be on to something... What do you think?" With his free hand, he reached to trace the skin of my uninjured cheek. "Test out that little mouth, hmm?"
"No," I spat, hating the panic rising in me. "I just need to use the bathroom. Don't do this Niall, please."
I swore I was dreaming when he bent at the knees, bringing our faces inches apart. His eyes, the cold, calculating blue challenged my memory with what felt more familiar; the warm cerulean that I saw everyday for the past few months. The lie. The lie was in his eyes. I'd trusted them so fully; the warmth, and the happiness that always radiated from them.
Now, his face so close to mine, his breath wind against my mouth, I could've been fooled that there was a flash of that sun, only for just a second by my words. And goddammit, my eyes burned from the betrayal of this man, from the fact that it was all in my imagination.
I've given up on the possibility of good in this human.
"You have no idea," he started quietly. "I wanted it to be us... I wanted to make something good. Just you and me. We could've taken on the world, Ella. Why did it have to be him? Why is it always him?"
I didn't like the calm tremor to his voice. More than that, I hated that his anger was only roaring to a boil just beneath every word. The calm before the storm.
I was ready to react, ready to spout my rebuttal. But something about this situation, those words, stopped me. I could use them to my advantage, I realized. His attraction to me was something I never wanted to explore, but it was also leverage.
My life was on the line. Harry's life. I had to get back to him. I had to find my way out of this situation, and prior to this spark of madness, I hadn't thought of a plausible idea. But now? Things were suddenly looking up.
With every ounce of energy I could muster, I calmed my features. Opened my burning eyes wide, smoothed the lines no doubt creasing the sides of my mouth. I allowed the stress to leave me, if only on the outside. The effect was immediate. A wrinkle formed between Niall's eyebrows, confusion gutting him.
"I wish it could've been like that," I whispered, shakiness leaving my words. Years of theater in Junior High perfected this performance in a way I would've never been capable without it. "I wish it wasn't Harry, either. You're the one I want, Niall. The one I've wanted from the beginning, but Harry threatened me..." I choked up; it looked like I was distraught to him, reminded of the story, but inside, these words were burning me like acid. "He told me to be with him or else he'd make my life a living hell. I was so afraid." I sobbed.
Niall's breath left him in a gush, his hands falling away. He was sitting on the back of his heels now, watching me with awe. My heart was more of a living, beating entity in this moment than it ever has been. God, but this had to work. Please. Please.
"It was my freshman year in a new city," I continued, my voice hoarse. "I had to agree, don't you see? I had to..."
"Ella," Niall's voice was weak. "My little Ella..."
Oh God. Bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed uselessly to hold it back. The only measure of hope I had was in this moment, this last resort.
The Niall who physically bruised me was somehow void the minute my words starting spewing. In place was this vulnerable, speechless, remedied man. Nothing in my life had ever shaken me so fully than this transformation before my eyes. Knowing a being was able to perform this kind of act worsened my nausea until the pain of everything was nearly unbearable.
People are capable of this, I kept thinking. This is what walks around the world, the rest of us blissfully oblivious to this deception.
"Do you know how long I've waited to hear those words?" he whispered, lifting himself again until his eyes were leveled to mine, and I prayed my panic didn't show. I needed to continue this tirade; these lies would be taken with me to my grave. But that day wasn't going to be anytime soon. Not on my watch.
"I'm sorry I've waited to so long, sweetheart," I murmured, allowing my loosely tied hands to come between us. He didn't bat an eye at the movement. He was fixated on my words, my face. "You're the one I love." I almost whimpered. This is the only way.
He gasped, closing more distance between us. My right hand was moving deftly to release the pathetic hold of fabric around my wrists. "You mean it? We can finally be together?" he was saying, his eyes so bright now. So hopeful. I almost felt guilt. Almost.
"Yes," I attempted a smile. He wouldn't notice whether it was forced or not; he was in another world. "We can go away, forget college, forget Harry."
How does someone believe me this easily? My resistance and my anger had been so strong up until two minutes ago, and yet, with the click of a button, was free. He believed every last part of this make-shift script I'd concocted.
"I love you," he mumbled, and my stomach felt leaded. When Harry had said those same words, something in my soul had ignited. Something so bright, so beautiful. When they left Niall's lips, that same part of me darkened. I was determined to end this as quickly as possible. He doesn't mean it. He doesn't love me. He's sick. He needs help; he needs to be far, far away from Harry and me.
My hands were free now, settled in between us. I needed something to distract him enough for the next stage of my plan to be flawless. I needed something to free his mind. I was on the right track, and my freedom was so close I could taste it.
"I love you, too," I said, leaning in, moving my hands beneath his jacket. I paused. He didn't notice my hands, only my lips. This was my one way ticket out of here. This. Right. Here.
His lips were cold, uninviting, chilling my otherwise flamed face. They moved, tried and tested. He wasn't harsh in his movements, something that surprised me, but he was lost. Utterly lost.
His gun, only just inches from my fingertips felt miles away. My eyes burned under closed lids. So close. So fucking close.
And there, the cold metal. Underneath my fingers. Relief was staggering. I tilted my head, adding force to our kiss while still keeping reign. He wasn't adding tongue. His hands were either side of my face now, and his breathing was becoming labored. He was unaware, so damn unaware of what the next seconds would hold. A tear slipped from my eye, hardly missing where our lips met. If he would have felt that wetness, my plan would've detonated.
My legs shifted, gaining momentum. In his head, he would've cataloged this as my growing excitement. My desperation to take things further. My lungs burned, my head throbbed, my heart cried.
For you, Harry.
Lifting the .45 caliber from the back of his waist line, I menuevered the life-changing piece of steel until it was in front of me, between us. I located the safety blindly, clicking 'off'. A sob tore from my throat. I didn't want to do this. I had to.
Niall pulled back slowly, his eyebrows furrowing. "Sweetie, what's wrong?" He searched my red eyes, pulling back more when he sensed something had changed.
His eyes dropped, panic rising to his eyes, his face losing pigment.
"Ella..."
My face contorted on my next sob, my mind fighting with my soul.
The trigger was under my finger, the weight of the world right there. Right fucking there.
The sound was deafening. The shot rang through the air, bouncing off the walls and taunting me with its finality. I went with the force of the gun, toppling out from the chair he'd shoved me at, landing but not feeling the land. Adrenaline was fighting with fatigue, a competition as to who would win, and my body wouldn't ignore this. My heart could not ignore this.
Niall crumbled, clutching his middle vainly. His eyes were wide, the betrayal clear enough to haunt me for the rest of my days. His legs toppled under his weight first, and the rest of him followed. I watched, silent. Still.
He was draining, the crimson a steady river from his body, leaving him much like the picture of Harry's blood only hours ago, atop concrete at Harvard campus.
My face was wet, my eyes sore. I could no longer face this man, on his path to death. My escape was a real option now, a vital, viable advantage.
My world was spinning in reverse now, my axis tilted. But I stood. I ran, wondering how my shaking legs could withstand the demand.
I would leave this man to rot. But I would find Harry...
And I would come home.
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"...if you must leave, leave as though fire burns under your feet..." -keaton henson
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hey, y'all. hope you enjoyed. i cried while writing this wow im a wuss.
leave a comment and a nice lil vote. they mean the world to me.
this is fairly unedited too, since i just wanted to get it out there for y'all so be easy on me.
til next time, Andi
XOXOX