Patterns of Blues

Chapter 10

Harry stuffed his hands inside his pockets as they hurried home, gaze stuck on the path ahead. Two days in a row of returning home worried sick for Niall, and he hoped this wouldn't become their new tradition.

At least Greg wasn't home with him, he knew that much. His stepdad didn't care enough about any of them to stay home when one of them was sick, and Harry was grateful for it. Nothing sounded worse to him than leaving Ni with him for an entire day. He just hoped nothing had happened in the hour before Greg had left for work. Knowing Ni, he probably went back to bed as soon as Harry and Liam left for school, and that would pretty much eliminate the risk of a confrontation.

He glanced at Liam and fought back a sigh, panic swarming his stomach again. Apparently, it can take up to 72 hours before an investigation is launched, and to Harry that wasn't much time at all. 72 hours could be all there was until they were either taken from their home with Greg or told to deal with it.

Part of him wished the response would be the latter. There were far too many variables to consider with the first option, too many what-ifs. At least if they were forced to stay there, they'd know what to expect. Every part of him wished he had never told Louis in the first place, he'd have been able to steer clear of this situation entirely.

Harry shook his head as he tromped up their deck before kicking his shoes off and opening the door with a smile on his face, half-expecting to see Ni waiting for them. His face fell, though, when he was greeted with silence,

"Niall, we're home!" He called out, glancing around the kitchen. Liam stood next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder,

"Check upstairs, he might have gotten bored and decided to take a sneaky little nap." Harry nodded and darted off while Liam took his school bag and hung it up with their jackets, humming rather carelessly. Harry was confused by his nonchalance but shook it away as he thundered up the stairs and into their room.

"Nialler?" He whispered, turning on the light, and pressed his lips together in a tight line when he saw that his brother's bed was abandoned, sheets sprawled out messily as they had been that morning, and blankets cold to the touch.

"Harry, get down here." Someone screamed, hysteria noting their words, and they seemed to hang in the air heavily after they were uttered. Harry was certain his heart turned to stone at that moment because he felt it plummet to his theoretical floor in dread. He didn't bother turning the light off in their room, leaving everything as it was and trampling down the stairs and back to the kitchen, where he heard Liam's intense breathing from the other side of the counter. He rounded the corner and looked down at his brother in shock when he laid eyes upon the scene. Horrific, was the only word he could use to describe it. Niall was sprawled out across the floor in a flood of his blood, pale skin completely exposed, sweatpants from earlier tangled around his ankles in a mangled fashion, and his shirt was nowhere to be seen. Patterns of blues and purples stained his body, from his legs and up his torso, arms, and even wrung around his throat in a morbid necklace. Liam had his upper body in his lap, and two fingers pressed against his neck, checking for a pulse while the rest of him was a trembling wreck.

"Is he- He's not-?" Harry couldn't stutter out a complete thought before Liam shot him a vile look,

"Why are you just standing there? Get a neighbor and call 911. NOW."

Harry didn't have time to be hurt by Liam's tone, head spinning in every direction, but he didn't wait to be told again, running for the door without stopping to put his shoes on. He ran down the driveway and to the nearest neighbor's house, banging on the door for a solid twenty seconds, until someone yelled something from the opposite side of the door and opened, an irritable middle-aged woman scowling at him immediately.