Dire {h.s.}

33

The headlights shine against the driveway as Niall drives the car to a slow and steady stop as we pull in. We've all been on edge since we left the club. In correction, the burning club, which is currently being rid of its flames as Louis has been using his phone as a T.V. during the drive for the news. The whole time we've been watching for updates, seeing if they found out who started the bomb, if police are getting involved, etc. From the helicopter's live broadcast camera's perspective, the flames have gone down. But the look of more than ten ambulances makes my stomach turn, knowing there were so many who have probably gotten hurt during the explosion. Or worse, those who have most certainly faced death because of it.

I feel horrible, because I was involved and there was a moment where I could've stopped him, I could've interfered, I could've helped get someone out. But instead, Harry, Zayn and I decided to get out for herselves. I feel selfish and guilty, and it's a feeling I can't get off my tongue. I know I can't change anything about what happened, I can't change fate at all, but it hurts knowing all of the 'what if's,' and for what I could have tried.

And if I find out that someone did lose their life during that explosion, I know that I'll be holding onto that guilt for the rest of my life. Because if there was something I could have done, I would have. It's a feeling I can't shake off because in the moment, my first instinct out of the chaos of adrenaline was to save myself. It's a survival instinct I guess, but I know that the second I got out to the fresh air, I realized that I could've saved someone too and not just myself.

The car is put into park and we all finally settle from anticipation and adrenaline. Although his house is most certainly not home to me, it's something close enough for now until I find a real and safe way to escape and get back to my real home, where my family is. I wonder if they're watching the news. If they knew I was there inside the building during the explosion, they'd lose their minds.

Harry pops open his door and crawls his tall body out, I follow after before shutting the door behind me. Each and every one of us stretches a little, but I'm just sore. Not only was I thrown against a wall by that masked man, but I was forced to run for my life before almost being blasted into a million pieces. I feel dirty from the ash and smoke, along with the dry blood on my damp hairline. I need to take a shower, try to wrap my head or something. The bleeding has stopped, but it's probably not pretty.

The cold night air whips around us almost like a welcoming, and I can't help but find the chill somewhat comforting, or maybe it's because I've not only been in a burning hot building, but trapped in a car between five people.

Liam yawns out loudly, "I'm exhausted," he says. "But starving."

How is everyone acting like what just happened is completely normal. We just survived a bomb, a man tried to kill us in there with a gun, and we robbed a strip club. I know that this is their normal, but that doesn't make it normal. I can still feel the chaos running through my veins, and my mind isn't used to this kind of action in my life. This is the type of thing you find in movies, not in reality. All of them finding this perfectly fine has to be a pretend on their part, it has to be.

Nothing about this shit is normal.

"Av, you alright?" Niall asks, drawing myself away from my cloudy mind. I look up to find all of them staring at me with concern written all over their faces.

I want to say yes, I don't want them to ask me any further questions. But another part of me is mad, I'm horrified and distrubed that they think all of this is completely fine and normal. None of it is.

My head shakes as my brows furrow together, "No, I'm not."

"What's wrong?" Liam asks,

"Everything–– all of this!" my voice grows louder with my frustration rising. "How do you find any of this normal?" I ask, scanning my eyes across all of their faces. "How do you all pretend like nothing happened?"