His Fantasy Hero (A Niam Fanfic)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

(Niall's POV)

Everyday is like an inner battle; like my soul is split into two unequally strengthened parts with in my life. One part is the supportive part that tells me that I should fight for the right to be me, to be accepted, not to be beaten down my a bunch of homophobic uneducated dicks and to stand up for myself and stand my ground, unfortunately that is the smallest part of my souls split. The biggest part, is the part that convinces me to run and hide, that I will never be able to stand up and fight, that part of me tells it how it is and doesn’t skip the excruciating details of my sad seemingly worthless life as if to torture me further with its whiny voice sticking in my mind to remind me what is what.

The voice of the fighting chance is always drowned out, always in the background as if a small humming tune of beauty and hope, the voice of my hero. But as unfair as my life is, that voice is never chosen over the stronger richer whine of the voice of reason. Why? Because let’s be honest, I’m not a fighter, the only fight I’ve ever been in was with my older brother over the T.V remote, and I lost instantly. So even when the hopeful voice is clearer and alluring like the sound of sirens as they lure me to my defeat, I could never chose it over the stronger voice in fear of getting hurt, but in some strange way, I’m glad; because if the small voice won the battle, I would surely have more beatings that I could bare to imagine.

Thankful that the fight is always over far before it barely begins, my chose is chosen almost instantly and I find myself running as far away from my problems as possible rather than facing them with confidence that I just didn’t harbour within me.

My life is an endless cycle; my mother and father saw the bruises, but turned a blind eye; they had enough to deal with and worry about with their upcoming divorce filing through, which only added to the sadness that filled my heart when they would avoid my gaze when I had obvious bruises on my face from that days beatings. It felt like they didn’t care, they were blinded by the hate for each other to care about me, to see what was happening right under their noses.

The feeling that no one cared whether I am bruised and broken hurt like a bitch, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it, so I dealt with it the only way I knew how, to keep a cold eye and pretend my life was perfect when I wasn’t being beaten or chased which obviously brought me back to reality.

 His striking brown eyes bore into mine as we stared at each other in a slight awkward silence, how could he be so beautiful? His dark brown hair styled to perfection and his face drawn into a perfectly strong jaw line, drawing me in to touch and caress his soft pale skin with the palms of my hands and the tips of my fingers. Perfect in every way; beauty like his was almost unheard of.
“Sarah?” his soft melodic voice made my name sound like a song as the word fell from his perfect plump lips.
“Yeah?” I said shakily, feeling my knees weaken at his gaze softened.
“Are you alright?” he asked as he continued to dap the blood from my forehead, his soft hand feeling hot beneath the cloth as the heat radiated from him making me shiver at the contrast in temperature of my ice cold skin.

As I read the extract from the book, I seemed to have an obsession with lately, I felt my heart quicken at the image of this exact moment happening to me... the man in the book was exactly my kind of guy, dark and mysterious with a beauty that was soft and perfect. This scene it my favourite, I’d read the book many times, but this scene always had me dreaming and believing that this could happen to me. To be found broken and be fixed by a perfect stranger. Though the hope that this could happen was very unlikely as there wasn’t a kind stranger in this town, it didn’t stop me from reading this scene over and over and still wishing for a saviour to come and find me.

I put down my book and returned it to my bag and exited the toilet cubical, surely ‘the pack’ must have dispersed by now to leave me to walk to my sanctuary alone. The library; the place that harboured my only friend in the entire world at the moment, Louis Tomlinson. He was the only one who understood me, and I often wished he went to the same school as me, but after being bullied for being different and hyperactive and outgoing but slightly nerdy he was forced to move the school just across town. It made no sense to me that he got bullied for being that way, and his story was slightly vague but I wasn’t going to push the subject, I could tell it hurt to not be accepted and I knew that feeling all too well.