Love Thy Neighbour *editing*

"Are you calling me a blabbermouth?"

For how long I sat there, I wasn’t sure. I was just waiting for him to come back for another go. Mind you; I had no idea how I would deal with a replay of that, because my nerves were absolutely shot. At least there was a little bit of consolation in the fact that he hadn’t hit me…

Who was I kidding? He had nearly hit me, and drunk or not, it had obviously stirred something in him enough to lash out.

I fell asleep staring at the door, images of an angered Niall dancing around my head. He was terrifying, even more so than he had been in the flesh. He shouted and kicked at me, slamming me into walls as I tried to get away from him in a bloodied haze.

When my eyes opened, I had somehow managed to make it into the bed. I blinked, suddenly quite scared that I was going to come into contact with a still enraged Niall.

But I didn’t.

Instead, someone had laid out breakfast for me, along with a note. I wearily uncoiled myself from the warmth of the covers, shakily getting to my feet and rubbing my face; I had fallen asleep with my make-up on and, as a result, my eyes stung from too much mascara and my skin felt sticky and oily.

I shuffled over to the plate; they’d left me Peanut Butter and bread, along with a butter knife to spread it myself. I opened the note, a lump rising in my throat.

Evie,

I know I’m last person you’ll be wanting to talk to right now. And I get it, really I do. From what I can remember from last night, I was a complete bastard, and I am so, so sorry, Sweetheart. I’ve left you food out, and I bunked in with Kermit last night.

Just let me know when you want to talk,

Niall x

That was bloody bold of him; assuming that I even wanted to talk to him. I swallowed, placing the note back down on the surface and gazing at the food. I wasn’t even hungry. I felt too sick to be hungry.

So I left it, going into the bathroom for a shower. I was at least going to be presentable when I spoke to him again. Who was I kidding?

I sat and cried against the bathroom door, purely because it had a lock that could only be opened from the inside. How on earth had I let myself get into this mess? How could I have been so wrong about him? Oh God, how was I going to tell Sian? She would have his frigging balls! Mind you, after what he had done, I wasn’t sure why I was worried about it. Right now, I wanted his bloody balls on a platter, and then I wanted to feed them to the fucking seagulls.

That would show him and his shagging brains.

So, after pulling myself up from the floor, I got into the shower, letting the water beat down on my tired skin. My whole body just felt…heavy. I was dreading the moment that I had to see his face, knowing that it was the same one that had swung the punch. How I was going to explain that to the hotel staff when they came in to clean, I wasn’t sure. I suppose the truth would work well, but I didn’t exactly want everyone to know what had happened.

At about half nine, someone knocked on the door. I jumped a bloody mile, caught somewhere between reality and a wee daydream. Trembling, I crossed the room, my hair soaking wet from a long shower, wrapped up in the duvet for comfort. I reached up, looking through the peep-hole. I wasn’t sure to be relieved or annoyed that it was Sian who was waiting there, looking around with what looked like incredible boredom.

Shakily, I opened the door, glancing up and down the corridor fearfully. Sian just stared at me, her eyes wide.

“It’s true then,” she breathed. I sort of choked on the air, gazing at her. How on earth did she know?