Simply Perfect: Niall Horan Fan Fiction

Emily

Emily

I had been taken somewhere very dark. It felt hard to breathe, and hard to move. I wasn't sure where I was, or how I'd gotten here. I just knew that I was trapped. The last thing I remembered was racing Niall out of the park in the rain. It had been the most wonderful date, although a little awkward at first. I heard footsteps from somewhere in the dark. I could feel my heartbeat instantly increase. I took several deep breaths trying to steady my nerves. It seemed like a door opened from across the room, as a long ray of light was shed across the floor and crept its way up to where I was. I cracked an eye open against the light to see a tall dark figure standing in the doorway. I pretended to still be asleep in the hope that he wouldn't come any closer. But I was wrong. 

The figure walked in, coming closer to me, wherever I was. I felt my breathing quicken, my chest heaving up and down with the nerves. I couldn't handle this, I couldn't focus. The cold metal barrel of a gun rubbed itself up my left leg, shimmying against my bare skin. I felt myself shudder hard, straining against whatever was holding me down. I realized that I was entirely undressed as the hot steam of his breath collided with my bare body. Every hair stood on end, and I let out a scream of pure and total terror. For the first time in my life, I seriously feared what was to come next. This couldn't be the way things would go for me. 

Not this way.

I just wanted to black out so I didn't have to face this. So I wouldn't have to remember it. But I was not so lucky. I'd always planned to fall in love, get married, and then lose my virginity to someone that I really cared for, but this man was about to take everything away from me. Everything I'd ever hoped and dreamed for, all for his selfish need. He rubbed the cold metal up and down my body, all my muscles clentching at the feel of the touch. 

"Enjoy yourself," he hissed, suddenly only inches from my face. His hot rancid breath stung my eyes. I could never enjoy myself when he was taking away everything I ever wanted. My innocence was being violated as he tightened all the ropes on the bed posts. He started rubbing his hands up and down my body, and I struggled to pull away from him, my wrists stinging against the taut ropes. I could feel pins and needles in my fingers and I pulled harder, begging the bed posts to break and allow me to get away. This couldn't happen to me. This was not what I wanted. He tried to kiss me, and when he got close enough, I bit down hard on his lower lip. He screamed and yelled, trying to pry me off, but I didn't let go. The more he struggled, the harder I clenched down on him. I bit until I tasted his disgusting blood fill my mouth and he flailed wildly, trying to retreat. I got some sort of sick satisfaction out of this, causing him pain. He had caused me mental traumas that I would never get away from, unlike him and his sore lip which would eventually heal, and he was going to pay everything he deserved.

And a little bit more.

"You enjoy yourself," I spit at him, spraying him in his own blood. I felt like I was going to be sick, but there was no time. Before I could react, he had the gun in his hands again, his large meaty finger on the trigger. I heard the gun cock and I prepared for the worst. 

"You're going to get it now, bitch." He stumbled over his words with his bleeding lip, which I realized was missing a large chunk. I spit again, realizing that it was still in my mouth. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I felt myself heaving, but nothing was coming up. I had nothing in my stomach to vomit, although I wanted to so desperately. I strained desperately against the ropes trying to pry them away from my hands and feet. Yanking, twisting, turning until the skin was red and irritated. I heard him undo his belt buckle, and all I could do was scream. I screamed as loudly as my lungs would let me. I screamed until my throat was raw. 

I screamed while he threw away my dignity, while he destroyed my innocence. I screamed while he touched my flesh. I screamed while he hit me afterward, beating me in my stomach and leaving bruises and scars that would never heal. I screamed while he tried to suffocate me, pressing his massive hands over my nose and mouth to make me stop breathing and go unconscious. I screamed hoping that someone, anyone, would hear me and try to help. I prayed that I would just die, and all the while kept screaming louder and louder. I screamed out of terror. I screamed until I bawled, crying out all the emotions I was feeling. I screamed until a cold wet rag was stuffed into my mouth. 

I screamed until I heard the sound of a gunshot.

I screamed as I heard the bastard fleeing in fear as I laid, broken about to die. 

I just screamed and screamed and screamed, the rag in my mouth so no one would hear my desperate cries for help. It was like there was nothing left that I remembered how to do that the gun hadn't taken away from me except scream. I could feel my own warm, crimson life puddling up around me, and I couldn't stop it. 

Just give up, I thought. It's okay to let go. 

Make it easy on yourself.

Give up.

No.

I fought off the sleepy feeling that was starting to overtake me. I pushed it away and struggled against the ropes more, trying to escape. I squirmed and wiggled one hand free before undoing the others and spitting the rag out. 

Flee.

I stumbled around in the room, finally finding a phone and calling the police. I whimpered and cried and curled into a ball on the floor while I waited for rescue, wishing I could rewind, back into the comfort and safety of Niall's arms. I couldn't hold my eyes open any longer, and I felt the blackness overtake me, stealing what I was sure were the last moments of my life.