Hold Me Close (Sequel To Take Me Home and Keep Me Safe)

Chapter Six

Niall didn't know what to feel. It seemed that whenever he got to a point where he was beginning to feel more like himself again, free from the grips of the men who had made his life a misery, his happiness was dashed by something terrible happening.

He was starting to think that maybe he just was never meant to be happy.

See, he had been better recently. He'd started leaving the house without Cooper, he'd been going around to hang out with Luke without Louis there sometimes, playing video games and watching TV without something triggering a panic attack or flashback. He'd been able to go a couple days at a time without a bad thought entering his mind, arguing with his brother like they used to, catching the train all by himself to go and see Harry and not flinching every time someone got too close to him. His quiet days had been getting less and less frequent and even Cal said he had been improving greatly.

Everyone commented on how much happier he seemed, how much less isolated he was. Just as he started to believe that actually, maybe life could get better and Richard might actually become a distant memory, something bad had had to happen.

And it had been all his fault.

If he hadn't made them late, Dad wouldn't have been rushing and they would never have crashed. Now Dad and Louis were hurt and he was the one to blame.

He had tried to convince himself otherwise, but he just couldn't. And seeing Louis in that hospital bed had made up his mind, he was the cause of all of this and it was his job to try and fix it all. He just wasn't sure how.

That one big, bad event had been enough to send him spiralling backwards. It was like Richard's voice was in his head again, telling him he wasn't good enough and that nobody wanted him except for him.

Only now, it was difficult to tell Richard's voice apart from his own. His own voice was telling him he was to blame, that he deserved to be punished, that he deserved to be hated. It was like all the bad things that had happened to him from when he was little with Keith to last year with Richard, he had deserved all of them.

He tried his best to ignore the thoughts, knowing deep down that they were what Cal would call thinking traps or thought errors, but no matter what, they were still there, in the back of his mind.

They were still there when the car shuddered to a stop outside of their house. Ash had driven them home, he and Harry sitting in the front seats. Niall was in the back, with a blanket draped over him since his coat had been too ruined to wear out of the hospital. He was still dressed in his torn and bloody clothes, and his head was pounding, ribs stinging. He didn't want to complain though, Louis had it worse.

Even Dad and Papa hadn't wanted to come home with him, so he guessed that they blamed him too. It was okay, he understood.

He zoned back in when he realised Harry was turned around in his seat, looking concerned and talking to him.

"S-sorry?" he asked, and his older brother pressed his lips together.

"I asked if you wanted me to run you a bath when you get in? Make you a hot drink? You must be dying to get out of those clothes," he repeated softly.

Niall paused, then gave a small shake of his head. "I'll run my own bath," he murmured, then wondered if he was being ungrateful so he added, "but a hot drink would be nice."

Harry smiled softly at that. "Alright. Oh, um, Paps said you're allowed to get your stitches wet, just not saturated so be careful. And, uh, I can give you some paracetamol if you need it but not for another forty-five minutes because you had some at two and now it's -"

"Haz, m'okay," he murmured, trying to sound convincing. Apparently he failed, because his brother just stared at him for a few moments before giving a small nod.