Gone

She looked so fragile lying there, like porcelain almost. She was surrounded by a puddle of her own blood. She pleaded with me to let her go, to spare her life, as if it was worth sparing, as if she was deserving of my generosity. I didn't owe her anything, except a punch in the stomach and a slap in the face. She didn't even flinch as I raised my arm back and struck her, right in the middle of her face. And boy did it feel good. All my anger and stress that had been boiling up inside of me suddenly poured out, leaving me with an oddly serene feeling.

If I had it my way, this would've really happened. Unfortunately, it was just wishful thinking. As much as I wanted her to pay for what she did to me, I didn't have the heart to do anything about it. I hated Amber but I couldn't deny the fact we would probably eventually get through this. Maybe. When we were twenty.

My thoughts were interrupted by Niall's angelic voice.
"Babe?"
I stopped staring into space and turned to face him.
"Hmm, yes?"
I hadn't been listening. I just hoped he hadn't said anything too important.
"You were in the middle of telling me something," he said slowly.
Oops. I had no idea what I was saying.
"Uh yeah, it's not important. Don't worry about it,"

We sat side by side on the edge of my bed. He pulled me towards him so that he was hugging me from behind with me on his lap.
"We should probably see if your parents are awake," he suggested.
Neither of us wanted to, but we both knew that it was best not to hide out in my room the whole day as either of my parents could walk in at any moment.

I had learnt my lesson the hard way a while back when me and Josh were a 'thing'. Probably the most awkward sitch I had ever been in. Lucky they didn't actually see anything but let's just say my parents now knew to knock before opening my door.

Niall waited in my room while I trudged across the hallway and down the stairs as quietly as possible in case my parents were still asleep. Dad was at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of hot coffee from his favourite mug with his head buried in last week's Sunday Mail. No sign of Mum yet. She was probably in bed, sleeping in. Lucky bitch.
"Good morning Kaia darling. How are we today?"
He sounded oddly formal. He only did that when he had to ask me something.
"Morning Daddy," I played it cool, as if I wasn't hiding a boy in my room, "I'm feeling lively, yourself?"

He quit the act and got straight to the point.
"I know you have a certain someone upstairs. You're rubbish at sneaking around,"
The smile on my face quickly turned into a gasp of horror. Fuck. I hated to admit that he was pretty good. Not as good as Mum though.

Notes

FINISHED!!!!!!