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Niall

Fanfiction

"What did he do to you?" She asks, running her fingers against my abnormally cold, scarred skin. "Nothing, baby girl. Nothing," I state, expecting tears to form in my eyes. They never come. ---------- "Are we going to die here?" She questions, bitin...

#crazyguy #ghost #kidnapped #niall #niallhoran

~5~

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by MaddyS3115

by MaddyS3115

~Niall Horan~

"Niall come here," my father calls, pulling me away from my homework. I place my pencil onto my desk and walk to the kitchen.

"Yeah d-" I cut myself short when I see him, covered in a scarlet liquid. Blood. He walks to me and just stands there is silence. This silence is different. It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand. I watch him reach into his pocket. He pulls something out slowly, and within seconds, I can tell what it is.

A gun.

A pistol.

My nerves begin run crazy. A lump forms in the back of my throat. What will come upon me? Death? Torture?

"Dad, what are you doing?" I manage to question. His hand shakes and I begin to wonder why.

He swings the handle of the gun at me, and it impacts the side of my head. I'm greeted by a wave of nausea as I fall to the ground. I begin to beg as he continues hitting me with it, over and over again. I begin to dry heave as nausea becomes too much for me. I finally throw up, but it isn't regular vomit. It's blood.

My father stops hitting me, placing the gun onto the floor, and grabs my ankle. He pulls me outside. Rocks dig into my torso making me grit my teeth in pain.

"Dad, please," I beg. He ignores me and continues behind the barn. He drops my foot.

I feel something wet seep into my clothes. I use part of my remaining energy to turn my head toward the substance.

"M-mom?" I stutter, seeing where the substance came from. My mothers body lies beside me, blood soaked. Her face is pale, lifeless.

My heart pounds. My father killed my mother. Is he going to do the same to me? I begin to panic and pull myself to my feet. My body fills with pain making me instantly regret moving. I debate trying to escape.

"I wouldn't leave if I were you," my father states. I feel a hollow circle press to my temple. Tears prick at my eyes. "Do as I say and I may consider letting you live...for a while at least." My breath hitches on the back of my throat as I begin to question is my life worth living? If I were to be alive, would I be equal to dead being with my father? What wouldn't mother say?

"Follow your heart," my mother's voice repeats in my head. I finally come to a conclusion.

"I'd rather be dead than live in constant fear." I feel blood drip from the corner of my mouth and I let it fall onto my shirt.

"Well then," my father says more to himself than to me. A smirk plays its way onto his face. He roughly pulls me into his arms, one of which wrapped tightly around my neck.

"W-why are you doing this?" I wonder, pulling at his oxygen-threatening grip. He chuckles, pulling me toward the barn. "Dad," I cry, "Please." By now, the tears once pricking at my eyes are pouring down my cheeks, probably clearing off the layer of dirt that clings to my face from being pushed to the dry ground.

A Couple Days Later

"Please," I hear my father's muffled cries, "Find my wife and son."

"Sir, don't worry," a raspy voice assures, "We will find them." I sure hope so. I shift my body in attempts to see through the crack in the attic floor, enabling me to see the doorway below where my father and a police officer stand. My insides cry out in protest and tears prick at my eyes. A creak comes from beneath me, making me bite my lip in worry. "What was that?"

"Um," my father looks up, finding my eye, "Just a squirrel. Dang things keep getting in." The officer looks up the opposite direction. My father points a finger at me and mouths the words, "Stay quiet." I nod, intimidated, although he probably can't see me. I take deep breaths, listening to my fathers conversation.

After I hear the door slam closed, I cower in a corner, just listening for my father's steps to be heard. I shake in fear. I can hear my heartbeat in my head and it's fast. A lump forms in my throat as I hold back sobs.

Before I know it, my father stands before me, fury in his eyes.
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I know, it's really short, but all of these were written in May and June--when softball was almost every day. The chapters will begin lengthening about chapter 10 which is where my November chapters begin!