Stockholm Syndrome (FOUR 1)

Chapter 2: My Idols Hate Me

Dani's POV:

Working with Zayn, Harry, and Niall in the room is terrible. I always thought that I would love to be in the same room as my idols while recording, but instead it's terrible. I used to think that the boys in One Direction were amazing lifesavers, but in reality they're just assholes. If they want to get out, I would expect them to be kinder to increase their chances. But every time I finish a song, I earn a sarcastic or hateful comment from one of them.

In fact, their bullying has gotten so bad that I only ever go down to the basement to record. I've stopped sleeping there, reading there, and even listening to music there. My safe haven has become yet another torture zone.

"Why are you not down there?" Evelyn yells at me, an angry look on her face.

"Why should I be?" I fire back. "You're the ones who kidnapped them, so you should be taking care of them!"

As if by magic, Brooklyn appears at Evelyn's shoulder, her face quickly changing to match Evelyn's. "Well, we don't come down to the basement all the time because we simply can't. You, on the other hand, have no reason that you aren't down there. So go."

"No." The defiance in my tone surprises even me. When Evelyn and Brooklyn command me to do something, I usually am too timid to fight back. I don't know why it's different this time, but I do know that I am tired of Evelyn and Brooklyn walking all over me. I need to defend myself more frequently.

Then Evelyn does something I don't expect. In a lightning-quick motion, her nails rake across my face, the extended, sharpened tips leaving thin red gashes along my cheek. She's never hit me before. Never. But I see the identical smirks on Evelyn's and Brooklyn's faces, and I know that they don't regret it. This was not an act caused by the heat of the moment; it was a deliberate move.

Tears flow freely down my face as I run to the basement. I'll probably just receive a cruel remark from Zayn, which will make me feel even worse. But it's the only escape from Evelyn and Brooklyn, and I would rather be with verbal bullies than physical ones.

I ignore the boys' startled expressions as I run over to the bed, curling up and crying, crying until I have no more tears. And I still cry. I feel like I used up half the water in my body, but I still cry. I cry for what seems like hours, sobs ripping through my body.

"You're kidding, right?" Harry hisses. I can tell he's trying to be subtle, but I can hear him as if he was whispering in my ear.

"No," Niall responds, just as quiet. "I mean every word." Then he drops his voice, cupping his hand around his mouth so only Harry can hear.

"Niall," Harry sighs. "You are right, and normally I wouldn't disagree, but remember why we're not on tour."

They were talking about me. That much is obvious. As for what they were saying, not as clear as I'd like. Harry agrees with Zayn's hatred for me, so Niall must somehow be defending me. I don't know why he would do that, though. I may be a Directioner, but he couldn't possibly pity me.

To my surprise, I feel the gentle sag of someone else's weight on my mattress. I know without looking who it will be.

"Why are you even over here?" I whisper, not looking up.

Niall shrugs, hesitantly wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "You didn't actually kidnap us. Besides, I can't stand watching a girl-a fan, for that matter-crying. After all, you are one of the people who gives us money." He cracks a small smile at the end to show that he's kidding.

I shouldn't be so surprised that Niall came over. He always cared so much about the fans, always knew what to say about girls. He's the one who knows best what it's like to be cast away, as if you don't matter.