Liar

Thirty-two

Why did I tell him about my feelings? Did I expect that he'd take my hand, pull me closer to kiss me and tell me that he loves me too? He's a fucking liar. A fucked up man that fucking lies to so many girls. I don't want to know how the other girls must have felt. Terrible, probably. But somehow it feels like he kind of chose me to hurt the most as I was his last game.

I look around, taking in the details of the room I am in. No furniture, fucked up walls, yes, that's how I remember the old apartment in Brooklyn.

I'd rather be poor and happy than rich and feeling this kind of pain.

Would my family have stayed poor, my mom would still live - with us - and we would never have moved to Attleboro and I'd never have met Niall James Horan.

I don't know why I feel about this in that way, but I think that what the group has done to so many girls in Attleboro high is meaner and crueler than what Kyle Fitzgerald had done. He hurt women physically, but Niall and the other punks chose a girl, acted like they would like her and build up a friendship to her, than after Niall fucked that girl they smashed her from cloud nine back to earth and they barely survive the fall.

I was dead already, then I sort of made it back to earth, carrying the weight of the pain Niall caused me with me everywhere I go.

I'm still just sitting on the floor of my old bedroom, the wallpaper is almost completely gone, just some parts of it are still visible. I stand, walking over to an old drawing by me. I remember when I made it. I used to draw stuff on the wallpaper in this room. I was five years old, my mom was watching me and asking me how shopping with daddy was. She was a beautiful woman, I've always wanted to become as pretty as she was and I'm sure she died beautifully.

If I wouldn't be in that hurt and numb state I probably would cry my eyes out. I miss her. She was perfect. Her face was stunning and her voice was so amazing. I go to the place where my old bed stood. A little fucked-up chair was always standing beside it because my mom used to sing me to sleep.

I miss her. Oh, how I miss her.

I knew that this flat has never been sold after we left it because my dad kept it just in case we would lose our money and our penthouse. He keeps his keys in his desk, but before we left the apartment to move into the penthouse I hid an extra key in a small hole in the wall.

I saw another drawing on the wall by me, I remember that I wrote Sapphire on the wall since my mother was named Sapphire. I couldn't write her name correctly, so I wrote Sapphiar. Now that the wallpaper is almost scratched away completely only the -iar part is left. I take a pen out of my bag that I took with me, the fifty thousand dollars still inside, and write and 'l' at the beginning.

Liar.

I stare at the word for what feels like ages as somebody knocks on the door.

"Hello?" It's Jake. Where does he know from where I am?

"Go away," I whisper. He couldn't hear me, I'm sure, but actually, I don't really want anyone to tell me that I need to go back to Attleboro to get my stuff before I can move here for good. I don’t even want to face my father, as I would need to explain why I didn’t show up at the ceremony.

"April? You must be here, there's no other place you would go to." His knuckles keep touching the wood of the door over and over and it's getting more and more annoying.

"The door's open, come in," I mutter quietly, but loud enough so he can hear me. The door knob turns and in comes a good looking boy that I reject over and over because I think he deserves better.

"Thank God. Your dad is worried as fuck and.." Jake says and I break down. Yet again. "Niall?" He knows me too well. I nod and he walks toward me, hugging me hard. "Your father told me that you came home yesterday and told him you would visit me. As you didn't answer your phone he called me and I knew that there's one place here in New York that would bring you on other thoughts."

"Jake he's such an ass," I sob in his chest.

"What has he done?"

"Rather what have they done. Niall and I had sex. Twice. I love him, I really do, and then it turns out that everything was just a game. They played this game with I don't know how many girls and I was kind of the grand final."

"Oh my fuck! He's a dead man!" He almost screams. "Was Louis involved?!"

"No, thankfully not. Niall lied to him about me, too. He was afraid that he would notice it, though." Jake strokes over my hair and over my back.

"I even invited that fucking douche on his drinks in the United."

"Jake, if your intentions are to bring me back to Attleboro, don't. I can't go back there."

"Why would I want to bring you there? I am more than happy to have my baby girl back in New York," he comforts me, still stroking my hair.

"Jake, would you like to stay at my place until I drive back? I need to go back, though, because of my clothes and you know, saying goodbye to my dad. He's moving to Seattle and to London and to South Africa and I don't know, but right now, I'm not ready to go back. Can you call Paul and tell him this?" I ask my best friend before he takes me out of this fucked up apartment.

I've been in trance after Niall told me that everyone loves him, I don't remember how I came to New York and I don't even remember that I've slept in my old apartment this night.

Jake drives me to my penthouse, over Brooklyn Bridge, through loads of Streets and Avnues and finally we drive through Fifth Avenue and arrive at the Penthouse. I remember the morning after Niall kissed me for the first time and tear up again. The note was just a lie and the key chain is bullshit as well. Everything I found thoughtful and nice turned out to be just part of the ridiculous game.

"Shall I go and get something from Kung Fu?" Jake asks me. I hear in his voice that every word is full of pity. The Kung Fu is my favorite Asian restaurant here in New York. It's just a block away and the food is delicious. I nod before I climb out the car and enter the elevator and then the penthouse.

Home, sweet home.

I directly head to my old bedroom, lie down and stare at the ceiling.

A lie. A fucking lie. A lie to win a game that he instructed by himself, just to push his manpride. Fucking bullshit.

I turn, lying on the side now, and instead of the ceiling, I stare now at the skyline behind the window.

I don't know how long I lie there, the only thing I know is that Jake came and tried to feed me but I wasn't hungry anymore. I watched the sun go down. The sunset has always been one of my favourite view here in the city.

While the sun still is shining on the other half of the earth I think about every moment I spent with Niall, every moment that felt like he would love me too. Every freaking moment was a lie, just part of a stupid game.

Fucking bullshit.

The sun rises again, and it's even more beatiful to watch than the sunset. I don't know what time it is, I only know that Jake came in again, offering me breakfast and lying down behind me, cuddling me and after I shook him off he left me by myself again. I appreciate him being concerned about me, but being more thankful when he leaves me alone.

As the sun goes down again I stand up because I really need to pee. I haven't been on the toilet for I don't know how long since I didn't drink much either. As I lie down again, I once check the date and the time on my cell. June 29th, one thirty am. I haven't slept once in two days.

My eyes are tired closing almost every second, but I tear them open, not wanting to sleep because I know that nightmares of Niall laughing straight into my face will haunt me.

Not even Kyle Fitzgerlad has hurt me that much.

Again, the sun rises and I watch it, thinking of Niall's Caribbean blue eyes. I remember that sparkle in his eyes as he let me know that he fucked the entire Lacrosse Club that made me think that this is not what he wants. But then again.. It's Niall fucking Horan, the guy who got a whole group to play a game with him that only he can win - by fucking a girl and hurting her deeply. That, ladies and gentlemen, is Niall Horan.

A mean liar.

I close my eyes, finally allowing myself to drift.