Patterns of Blues

Chapter 18

Ms. Claire came by in the afternoon as she had promised, but she brought a police officer with her, which had previously gone unmentioned. He was tall and muscular, had dark skin and deep brown eyes, looking every bit as intimidating as any other policeman Niall had seen, but quite unlike the others, he had a pearly white smile that was too inviting and kind to peak his alarm. He expected him to have a really cool and edgy name, like 'Shevon' or 'Jabari', but was surprised when he introduced himself as Otis.

Mrs. Corden led him into the living room where Otis then sat down and waved at Niall, who had since retreated to the staircase. Seeing as his hiding spot was discovered, he slowly crept out and raced to Mrs. Corden's side for protection. She smiled at him fondly and took his good hand, guiding him to a chair across from the officer,

"Niall, this nice man has some questions to go over with you," Ms. Claire said formally, sitting down as well. They turned out to be the exact same questions he had been asked on repeat the day before, spanning from 'Has your dad ever hurt you?' to 'What did you do yesterday?' rephrased a bunch as though to get every last detail out of him that they could.

"I already told you what happened," he frustratedly whispered to Ms. Claire, "I don't wanna think about it anymore."

"It's just a statement so you won't have to testify in court," Ms. Claire replied, and Niall stared at her blankly,

"I don't know what that means." Mrs. Corden, who had been sitting in relative silence, shifted in the seat next to him,

"Love, this is so you don't have to tell a whole bunch of people the story more than once. You don't have to talk about it ever again after this if that's what you want." Niall glanced at his lap before nodding once,

"Okay, fine."

He repeated everything he said the day prior with as little emotion as he could, feeling broken inside, dirty all over again, like the germs he laid in were creeping back onto him just by thinking about it. Like Mark's disgusting hands were back on him. Like he was sticky with his own blood. Otis didn't ask him much more than what it took to get the important details, as though trying to save him from unnecessary trauma. He was already sinking, so it didn't matter. After he finished reciting his story, he noticed Mrs. Corden's hand rubbing small circles on his back, her blue gaze troubled. Niall didn't pull away, and instead sat in indifference, staring off at nothing in particular, his thoughts getting loud again.

"I'm very sorry," Otis said sadly, standing up, "though if it helps you sleep better, we have him in custody."

"Why don't you go upstairs, okay?" Mrs. Corden suggested before Niall could respond, "I'll come find you shortly." Niall nodded distractedly and wandered up the stairs but sat with his back against the wall next to them, listening to the conversation underneath him.

"Is his father, that horrible man, is he under arrest too?" That was Mrs. Corden, and she asked that question in a tone he hadn't heard from her like she was holding herself back from letting her anger out, though he had heard that kind of voice from Liam in the past. It seemed like Greg had that effect on people.

"Yes, we have found evidence of abuse and neglect. Looking through the records we have of those boys, Niall and his older brother, Harry, were malnourished. It seems they weren't getting three proper meals each day. Extensive bruising was located on Harry's body in places you wouldn't naturally bang up, and we have statements from both of them that Mr. Horan would hit them frequently. His court day is in a week." His heart began to race when he heard Harry's name mentioned.

"So, he won't get those poor boys back?" Mrs. Corden pressed, and Niall was confused at why she cared so much about him and his brothers whom she hadn't even met. He listened very closely for the response, anxiety pricking at his insides.

"It's undecided," Otis replied, "everything will be figured out after his hearing." Niall breathed out an agitated sigh but perked up when Mrs. Corden spoke again,

"He's been asking about his brothers nonstop, is there any way we can schedule a visitation? It kills me to see such a sweet boy so hopeless."

"Yes," that was Ms. Claire, "I've already been sorting things out. This Saturday afternoon would work nicely if that's alright for you." Saturday? That was freakin' ages away. Or three days that would feel like an eternity. Niall stopped himself from being too negative and decided to listen if Mrs. Corden would allow it.

"That will be perfect."

Alright. He let his mind wander off to thoughts of his brothers, deciding it would be better to do that than spend one more second thinking of Greg, Mark, Ms. Claire, or anyone else who's added trouble to his life. Harry and Liam were his safe place, and until he was with them, he felt exposed to every possible threat, as if their absence left him unprotected. The words spoken at the bottom of the staircase muddled together in his ears like jumbled background noises, the sensation of trying to be part of a conversation while underwater, distracted by worries for Haz and Liam. He stood up and stumbled into the bedroom he was staying in, closing the door and reaching for the lock, though dropped his hand when he noticed there wasn't one.

He lay on the bed, throwing a blanket over himself, and closed his eyes, attempting to slow his thoughts. It was all too much. Everything mounted, he felt the room spin around him though nothing was moving, his breaths caught in his throat, stress and panic taking over.

He was alone.

After either hours of hectic silence or mere moments of unclear thoughts, he heard the door open and someone sigh. He didn't look up, couldn't if he tried, his vision blurry with tears. He swore that he had cried enough that week to fill a bathtub.

The mattress squeaked and shifted, indicating that someone had sat beside him. A soft voice confirmed the suspicion,

"Oh, sweetheart. Deep breaths, yeah?" He nodded jerkily, attempting to focus on the words she spoke. Deep breaths. Calm down. Relax.

After a few minutes of trying to regulate his breathing, the tears finally subsided, but the pain he felt on the inside never ceased. He wasn't sure it ever would.