The Room- A Niam Fanfiction

No happy ending, I'll just die.

So yeah nobody is reading this but I don't even care.
I'm just going to continue this for nobody, only myself (forever alone)
Yay!
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I am freezing cold.

Everything hurts.

I slowly open my eyes and blink a few times to get used to the little light.
Again I am in the same room, the same grey, the same dust, the same lonelyness.

I sit straight up, and move my hand trough the little hair I have.
I used to have lots of curly hair.
Hair is actually really usefull in a stressfull situation.
You can brush your hands trough it, tug at it, and just mess it up.
It really helps.

I remember that I always used to do that with Niall's hair.
It was soft, and blond. It was perfect.

I need to get back to the boys.
I still don't know where I am.
Can I get out of here?

I get up on my feet, trying my best to ignore the cramps and pain in every inch of my body.

I look around, just like I did yesterday, but now I notice something different.
A door.
A grey door.
I rush over to it, but considering the amount of pain I have, you can not really call it rushing.
It's more of: 'Trying to rush but actually going really slow.'

I grab the cold and dusty door handle, but then flinch my hand backwards as fast as I can.
That hurt!
I look at the door handle, there are bloodsmears on it.
It feels like my insides are turning.
Shit shit shit.
I slowly turn my hand around, but deep down I already know what I will see.

Dark red.
My hand is totally dark red.
"Shit." I whisper.
How didn't I notice that yesterday?
There are several cuts in my hand, and every single cut is bleeding crimson red.
Did I clutch the doorknob to tight?

I try to whipe the blood on my jeans, but it hurts, and there just keeps coming more of that sticky red fluid.
'Just act like they always do in the movies!' I think to myself.

I start to tug at my white shirt, trying to rip a piece of it, but the fabric is too resistant.
Bloodstains are forming on my shirt, growing bigger and bigger.
Suddenly I remember: my sweater!

I turn back around, and search for my green sweater.
My eyes land on a dark green heap on the ground.
I stagger over to it, and grab the soft fabric from the ground.

I take one of the sleeves in my hand, and press it tightly against the several wounds.
I tie the soft material together at the back of my hand, and I just hang the rest of the sweater over my shoulder, sighing deeply.

"Well, that problem is solved..." I whisper to myself.
The sound echoes around the empty room, giving me an uncomfortable feeling.

I walk back over to the door, and lay, for the second time, my hand down on the door handle.
Softly I try to push it down, but it doesn't work.
A little harder then.
Nope, no movement.
I gather all of my strength, and push down on the doorknob.
No.

"SHIT!" I scream, hearing my voice echo from wall to wall.

With all the anger I have inside of me, I swing my good hand forward, and smash it into the door.
And again.
And again.
And another time.

"GET. ME. OUT. OF. HERE!!!"

I scream, shout, punch, kick, but no reaction comes from the other side.

"PLEASE LET ME GO! I HAVE TO GET OUT!!!"

My knuckles starts to hurt, but I just swing my fist forward for another punch.

"PLEASE!!! PLEASE! Please. Please..."

Slowly I sloutch down on the ground, and I start to cry.
Tears drip down my face, and I don't even make an attempt to whipe them away.

I don't care.
I'm never going to get out of here.
I'm never going to see my family again.
Or my friends.
The lads.
Niall...

I start to cry even harder, my tears falling on the cold, grey and dusty ground.
I close my eyes tightly, my sobs becoming louder by the second.

Never. Never. Never again.

"Never..." I whisper inbetween my gasps for air.

I can feel the salty liguid on my lips, and I lick them.
I'm thirsty.
How am I going to survive if there's not even anything to drink over here?
I'm just going to dry up and die.

This is not like in the movies.
I'm not going to be rescued.
I'm not going to survive.
I'm never getting out again.
Never going to see the love of my live again.
He won't be waiting behind that door, smiling and kissing me when I get out.
No happy ending.
I'll just die.

My gasps for air stop.
So do my tears, and my sobs.
It's silent in the room again, exept for my occasional sniffeling and shuffeling.

I scratch my neck, and then lower my hand back to the ground.
But instead of touching the cold stone again, it touches something else.
Something soft and weird.

I turn my head, and my eyes widen at the sight.
No. How did this come here?
Was it here the entire time?
Did somebody put it here when I was knocked out cold?

I don't know the answer, but that doesn't even matter right now.
I stick my finger into my mouth, and lick off the soft substance.
It isn't warm anymore, but I don't care.

I pick up the fork that's laying next to the plate, and start eating the mashed potatoes.
I didn't even notice I was hungry until now.
I'm practically just stuffing the cold mush into my mouth.

'I must look like Niall right now.' I think, but immediately stop myself.
'Don't think about him, or you'll just start crying again.'

I lick all what's left of my mashed potatoes off and put the porcellain plate down.

I'm not hungry anymore, but now I'm thirsty.
My eyes roam over the ground close to the door, but nothing is there.
Dissapointed I turn back again, and stare at my not-so-white All Stars.
So I'm not going to starve to death, but I will die of thirst.

That's great to know.
Wow, my mind is being sarcastic.

The lads were sarcastic a lot.
It was quite funny actually.
They always used to embarras Niall, so he would look at the ground blushing and mumble something like 'stupid cunts'. He'd start fumbling with his fingers, while the pink colour would spread on his cheeks.

I loved it when he did that, it was just so cute.
And the lads knew I loved it, that's why they did it.

They knew about me being in love with Niall.
I told Zayn at first, Harry and Lou found out theirselves.

Suddenly I spot something in the far corner of the room.
Ofcourse! Why didn't I think about that?!
Sometimes I'm so stupid!

I stumble over to the old sink, and open the tap.
Please. Please, please work!

At first there's a weird kind of gurgle, like someone is getting strangled, but then a brownisch fluid starts streaming down.

"Ew..." I whisper, as I watch it flow away through the little hole in the middle of the sink.
I can't remember what it's called again.
Not that I need to know the name of a little hole in the sink when I'm locked up in a room.

The brown fluid turns into lighter brown, and then into real water.

I cheer happily, and I put my hand underneath the tap.
I lick the water off my hand.
It tastes a little like chlorine, but that can only mean that it's clean.

I put my mouth underneath the tap this time, and start to eagerly drink the chlorine-tasting water.
I keep drinking and drinking, and I only stop when I'm totally full of water.

Sighing contently, I turn the tap off again, and sit down on the ground.

Tiredness is taking over my whole body, and I curl myself up on the cold and hard ground.
I close my eyes, and feel myself falling asleep almost straight away.
Before I totally give in to the tiring feeling, I think a few things.

Blue eyes.

Blond hair.

Pale skin.