Breana Tomlinson-Styles-Horan-Malik-Payne

Nightmare Daydream

"Bonne nuit, Marie-Élise. Rendez-vous le vendredi!" I spoke into my phone.

"Bonne nuit, Breana! A bientôt alors!" my best friend replied cheerfully before hanging up.

She was the one I told the boys about - The one that was adopted and lived in Liverpool.

The boys had a concert so I was home alone. So it was the only non-busy time I had to talk to her.

I had been living with the boys for three weeks now and spending every waking minute with them became old, so I begged to stay home.

I glanced at the radio clock on my night stand and yawned, "Eleven-thirty . . . Time for bed."

I turned off my lamp and huddled into my bed, the warmth surrounding my vilely cold body.

Seconds past and I fell asleep.

She ran, ran as fast as she could. She tried as hard as she could not to, but the ten year old girl whimpered at what she was leaving behind her.

Her bare feet hit the cold, sharp pavement, her arms pumped, convinced it would make her faster.

The blood dripped from her lip where her father punched her.

Her trousers the only thing he left on her body in the middle of winter.

She heard him yelling her name behind her, she snapped her head behind her briefly as his shadow faded into the midnight darkness.

The wind she created cloaked her skin, causing goosebumps to trill up her spine.

Not a single person occupied the streets of Ireland, not a single person to help her; save her from the wicked man.

Her black hair whipped her face in a painful manner, causing more salty tears to glide across her face.

The second her feet gave in, the second her arms ached, the second her lungs broke even, a seventeen year old blonde embraced her, stopping her advanced running.

"Woah, hun, where's the fire?" she laughed, gripping her shoulder to calm the shaking, frantic girl.

Breana set her hands on her knees and heaved deeply, hyperventilating harshly, "My father . . . H-he's trying to k-kill me . . . h-help me . . . help me please."

"Sweetheart, calm down, my name is Katie Lish, I want to help. We're gonna take you away from here, okay? What is your fathers name?"

She gasped for air, "G-Greg . . . Greg Horan."

I sat up in horror, shaking my head and whimpering.

"H-Horan . . . Horan, his name was . . . Horan." I whispered, trying to slow the sharp pain in my chest.

Crying, I jumped out of bed and sprinted down the hall to Harry and Niall's room.

The door was left open, I ran in, "Niall! Please! Please wake up!" I screamed.

My ears went hot, the tears poured down to my chest, I switched my weight to a different foot each second.

He shot up, I noticed then that I woke Harry too, "Princess, what's wrong?" he rubbed his eyes and gestured for me to come closer.

I started shaking harshly, the sweat from my forehead dripped from my hair as I stepped closer.

"N-Niall, do you know anyone named Greg?" I asked whilst staring at the floor, wishing it would cave in with me in it.

I silently begged he would say no.

"Yeah, I do." he yawned, "My brother."

I shook my head, "No . . . No no no please no!"

My heart started beating out of my chest, my eyes seemed to swell.

"Bree, what's wrong?" Harry asked with a sense of urgency in his voice.

"H-He tried t-to k-kill me." I clutched my heart as the world went crooked, "Please help me." I gasped severely, "Help me!"

I fell to the ground, that was it, my body wouldn't move and I couldn't open my eyes.

I heard footsteps and yelling, then my mind went blank.