Attempting To Trust (Niall Horan Fan Fiction)

Chapter 13

Karla POV

I've been in Chad for six months leading a soccer camp here. Being one of the only goalies willing to do travel to this country, here I am. All the other goalies in the world think they are too "professional" to do community work for children who live in poverty.

Professionals can be some real pricks.

So I am trying my best to make a difference in this kids' lives. They deserve a good life just like everyone else in the world.

I miss Niall's touch. I miss his voice. I miss his beautiful face. I miss his smell.

I miss him.

I miss him because I love him. I've finally been able to admit it to myself.

I sigh and continue trying to teach the kids more soccer skills, but it is no use, they already no everything! These kids were pretty much born with a ball in their feet. That's all they have to do here. Not technology. Soccer.

Niall and I cannot text very much because there is rarely a signal around here. We have been able to Skype once, but it was hard to understand him and I couldn't see his face.

When we Skyped, Niall told me that him and the boys have decided to call themselves, "One Direction," which is a weird name if you ask me, but I still love it. They sound great together!

The boys signed with Simon Cowell, and just finished their first cd. They are calling it "Up All Night."

Even though Chad is one of the most beautiful place i have ever been, I find myself extremely sad sometimes.

There is one little girl here that I absolutely adore. Her name is Karisma. She has the sweetest personality. She loves hugs and always has a smile on her face.

But that's not why we connect so well.

Karisma had a very similar situation that I did, only she was a million times younger than I was. Which makes it even worse.

When Karisma was born, her parents did not have very much money. She had two other siblings, one girl and one boy. Her dad worked a couple hours away, by foot. When he had a rough day at work, he would beat Karisma.

Not the other siblings. Just Karisma.

One day, when it was dark, Karisma's father came home furious from his job, looking for Karisma. When he thought he found her, he threw punches, kicks, bricks, and whatever else he could find.

Until he realized it wasn't Karisma.

It was his wife.

So, he fled as quickly as he could taking his favorite children with him.

So Karisma was left alone, seven years old, with a dead mother around the corner.

She is nine now, but even though she has had the hardest life I have ever heard, she smiles more than any kid I have ever seen. She lives in an orphanage with kids older than her that have a tendency to bully her. Nothing close to what her father did to her, but still bad enough to hate her life.

But she doesn't.

She loves life and tries to make it as enjoyable for other people as she can.

I hug her tightly as soon as practice ends before heading back to my hotel. "Karisma, you did really well today. Keep up your good work." I bend down on my knees so I can look her in the eyes.

"Thanks Coach. I really love when you do practice. You make me smile because you're pretty and really good at soccer. All my other coaches were ugly. It made my tummy hurt," she told me in all seriousness, holding her stomach for extra effect.