You: nh au

One

Niall - 90 days since

I remember the time you died. I remember where I was when I got the call that you tried to kill yourself. Well, tried isn't the correct term anymore; you succeeded.

I got the call at 10:38 am. Mr. Lloyd's class. I picked up with a sinking feeling eating my stomach. The sound of sobs filled the other like as my mother choked out:

"She tried again. We are at the hospital now."

My heart dropped to my feet. I picked up my backpack and ran out of the classroom, not caring about my unfinished final and Mr. Lloyd yelling at me to, and I quote, "get my ass back here".

I remember driving like a mad man to the hospital, almost running over a mother with her toddler. I felt bad that I made her toddler cry, but I didn't care; I just needed to make sure she was okay.

I remember finally finding parking twenty minutes later and not bothering to lock my car. I didn't care if some shithead stole my stuff; I just needed to make sure she was okay.

I remember bursting through the hospital doors, everyone looking at me like I was insane. I ran to the receptionist l, asking for her. She pointed to the double doors, saying that the waiting room was on the third floor to the left.

I remember waiting in the elevator for what had seemed like an hour. When the doors finally opened, I ran to the waiting room, immediately seeing my mother sobbing into my fathers shoulder. My father looked at me, obviously crying. I've never seen my father cry until that day. My mother turned around, like she knew that I was there, and gave me a bone-crushing hug, weeping into my shoulder. I hugged her back as my father padded my vacant shoulder.

I remember her best friend, Avery Reed, bursting through the door like I did at 1:30 pm. Her red eyes made contact with mine as she gave me a hug.

"How is she?" She asked.

"I don't know." I sighed.

She let go, attempting to give me a reassuring look. She then walked over to my mother asking the same question.

At 2:14 pm, I remember the doctor with salt and pepper hair walking towards us, sadness in his eyes. He was her doctor since she was little and grew to like her, but his training in medical school forced him to not let his face show bad news. He sat down next to my mother, taking her hand, and told her with the best efforts of the best team of surgeons, they were not able to resuscitate her, and she does at 2:09 pm.

Now, it's been 90 days since she died and 75 days since the funeral; I don't know how I can go to school today. I just can't wait for people seeing me walk through the hall as they whisper to their friends, "Look it's that Niall kid who lost his sister on the last day of school."

I know they could whisper worse stuff, like "I bet he killed his sister and lied about her killing herself", but it still sucks being talked about.

I've been laying in bed for twenty minutes now, debating whether to go or not. On one hand, it is my last first day of school and it sends a mad message to miss the first day of school. One the other hand, it's school and, well, school sucks most of the time.

My thoughts are interrupted when my mom bangs on my bedroom door.

"Niall, get up! You have school!" She yells through the door.

"I know!" I yell back.

"Well, get your ass up!" She knocks on my door again before leaving.

I groan and through the blankets off my body. Checking my phone for the time, I swear under my breath. 7:10, I'm going to be late. I throw on one of my nicest shirts and black jeans. I slap on some hell in my hair, brush my teeth, and rush down the stairs.

"Don't forget your shit." My drunk father said, taking a sip of his beer.

"Don't forget to take care of your liver."
I reply, walking out the door with my backpack, car keys, and a banana before he can say anything. Turning on the engine, I back out of the driveway and break the speed limit all the way to school.

I park in the back when the bell rings. Shit. I lock my car and pull my schedule out of my pocket. Mr. Pierce: Room F4. All the way across campus. Great. I know I'm going to be late, so I take my time waking, enjoying the sunny day.

The bell rings as I get to the F building. I walk up to F4 and take a deep breath to ease my nerves. Everything will be okay, I tell myself. I turn the knob and open the door. As I walk in, everyone looks in my direction, like I've just murdered someone.

"Niall," Mr. Pierce sighs, "You're late."

"Wow, thank you for telling me something I already know." I sarcastically said, rolling my eyes. Everyone laughs as Mr. Pierce just sighs.

"Take the empty seat in the back." He orders. I follow his directions and sit next to a blonde girl who's shirt couldn't cover her huge breasts if she tapped it to her neck.

"You're the kid who's sister died last year, right?" She asks a little too loudly, causing the students around us to look at me. I ignore her as I take out my materials for this class.

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," Mr. Pierce said, giving me a look, "we will be doing a semester long project. You and a partner of my choice will be writing a 20-page short story inspired by a real life event that's happened to you, your partner, or a family member in the past three years. I strongly suggest that you change their names because some stories will be read by your peers. Now, I will read off your partners."

"Why can't we just choose our partners?" The blonde girl next to me asks.

"Because you're not Mr. Pierce." He responds rudely, making the class laugh, "Stacy Henderson and Harry Styles."

"For fucks sakes!" Harry groans.

"Can you all shut up, thank you!" Mr. Pierce waits for everyone to quiet down before he continues reading, "Mae Guzman and Roy Pope. Liam Payne and Anne Davis. Niall Horan and Samantha Jones."

I stop listening after he said my name because I couldn't care less about everyone else's partners. After he lists off everyone and their partners, he tells us to take the rest of the class time to get to know their partners. Everyone stands and greets their partners. I stand and look for anyone that looks like a Samantha. I get a tap on my shoulder and turn around to a brunette girl with green eyes.

"You're Niall, right?" She questioned.

"Uh, yeah. And I guess you're Samantha?"

"God, don't call me that. It makes me sound like a 90 year old woman. Call me Sam."

"Okay, Sam," I said, sitting down, "How do you wanna do this?"

"Well, first off, I think we should finish this as soon as possible." She answered, sitting down. Sam continues to talk about what we should do and how we should do it, but all I was focused on was how beautiful she is and how her lips would feel on mine.