Dolly

Eleven

Fair Warning: Niall does talk about his drinking, and how he felt so please have tissues. x

M A R Y

          I could still feel Niall’s arm around my waist. But by the way he was breathing, I could tell he was awake. His breathing wasn’t a slow steady line of breath like when he’s fast asleep. That’s something I’ve learned from sleeping next to him for nearly four years now.

            “How are you feeling today?” His voice was slow and raspy. The scratchiness of his voice hinted that he’s only been awake for a few minutes.

            I pushed myself further into his arms, pulling them tighter around me. “My whole body just hurts.” I whined. “I feel like I was hit by a truck.” I clarified, “Just to give you some kind of idea.” I finished.

            “You can lay in bed all day if you want.”

            “We have things to talk about.” I exhaled, “So many things.”

            “Like the fact that you’ve had a panic attack before?” He knew the answer to that, so I don’t know why he even had question in his voice.

            “What about it?”

            “Why didn’t you tell me?” he began, “I’m not mad at you, and I’m not fighting with you. I just thought we were telling each other everything. Harry told me last night that you had one before.”

            “When I got to the hospital that night.” I started, “I was scared, I was almost killed and I thought you weren’t going to come for me. I panicked. I didn’t have anyone with me, and I didn’t know what was going to happen to me at that time. I used to have them long before that, but I learned how to counter act them some times.”

            “Is that the only time?”

            “Yeah.” I lied. I didn’t want to tell him that I had panicked a few nights after he left the wedding. I didn’t want him blaming himself any more that he already does for the things that have happened to me in the past. I know what happened last time he felt so much guilt.

            “Are you telling me the truth?” he pried. I only nodded, still not facing him. The mattress dipped as he pushed himself off the soft surface. “I trust that you’re telling me the truth.” He whispered. It almost sounded like he was hoping that I would cave in and tell him all the other times that I panicked that bad and just didn’t tell him. Then I remembered that his friends were staying here and he probably didn’t want to wake them up by fighting with me.

            “Do you ever think about drinking again?” His whole body stopped in its place, he dropped the pair of lounge pants and turned back to look at me.

            “What?”

            “I’m not saying that you are doing it, I just thought, ya know—with everything that’s happened the past year that maybe you’ve thought about doing it again.” I shrugged. Pushing the blankets off my body and standing up on my side of the bed and pulled my house coat on, tying it around my body.

            “No. I don’t want you to ask me that again. I never think about going there again.” He started, “Because it hurt you, and I almost physically hurt you.” He defended, “Of course I don’t think about drinking again.”

            “You don’t ever wish that you could have a drink, socially?”

            “Of course, yeah, it sucks. I don’t trust myself to even have one drink. I know—we drank that one time together, and I wasn’t at all mean or angry. But it was—our first night together, I was so happy and all I thought about was you, and that moment. It was the single best moment of my life. But all the times after that, it was self-blame and I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. I—I hated myself so much, and I thought that maybe you would have been better off without me and sometimes I snuck out just to have a few drinks.” He wasn’t looking at me anymore, and I could see his eyes getting wet with tears as he carried on.