The Story of us

Chapter Seventeen: Faring On

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry that I didn't post the chapters on Friday/Sunday, my internet stopped working and I had to wait till today for the Wifi guy to come and fix it! So sorry to keep you waiting, Will be uploading the next chapter after my  Pilates class! :)

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When I was younger, Dad had made a point to teach me how to defend myself. Just in case, he always said. He'd shown me, with a quiet and unlimited patience unique to him, how to clench my fist in just the right way, how to draw back my arm and control my force to deliver the most effective punch. It wasn't until I was older that I realised what he'd really been trying to teach me - not to be a mat to be walked all over, but willing to stick up for myself when others tried to put me down.

"You don't go looking for trouble, Layla-bear, but when trouble finds you, you best to be ready for it - chin up and head high," was his saying, and I'd repeat it in a sing-song way, glad for those little moments I got to spend with my police officer daddy.

When James and Eleanor were born, I expected him to teach them too, but he hadn't. And when I saw James fight someone almost twice his size after the bully made a remark about our mum being a teacher, and when I heard that Ellie had pushed a boy into the mud when he was calling her names, I understood why. Dad knew they wouldn't have any problems sticking up for themselves - it was just me, because I was like him in every way. Dad understood my character, as well as the consequences that came with being as passive as we were.

Dad was responsible for cultivating the fierce Layla buried deep inside me, and I would always be grateful to him.

Funnily enough, this was all I could think of as I stood in the Kensington College courtyard.

My body no longer felt like my own, and yet it was throbbing and aching like nothing I had ever felt before. There were bruises and scratches on my arms and legs that I weren't even sure where they had come from. Time was nothing as I was trapped in this circle, their mocking, laughing faces spinning around me in a confusing blur.

They'd taken it in turns to shove me around the ring, just like they had done to Kevin Grey the first time I'd witnessed it. I'd tripped over and scraped myself against the stone more than once, but they mercilessly hauled me back up and continued their game. After the shoving came the water bombs, which exploded and left angry red marks against my skin. Within seconds I was soaked and flinching from the cold, but it didn't stop there. The other objects were being thrown at me, accompanied by yells and cheers that echoed deafeningly in my ears.

"Fire it at her!"

"It serves you right, you little slut. Hope you learn your lesson after this!"

It was taking every bit of my strength to remain standing and shield my head. My chest was constricted with desperation and anxiety. I wasn't sure how much longer I could endure this.

A pack of flour hit me right in the face, filling my eyes and mouth with white powder. I gasped and spluttered as someone cheered, "Nice hit! Straight in the face!" But my punishment wasn't done yet.

Please make it stop... make it go away... I begged silently.

It was blow after blow. Every part of me ached. My breathing was laboured. And yet there was no escape. I didn't have the strength to stand up anymore and the world spun around me as I crumpled. I cringed into the ground, shaking.

Please... help me... I prayed, and my mind was suddenly filled with Niall Horan. Niall, as he draped my blazer over me when I was on the ground. Niall, stopping those boys and returning my violin with just a simple word. Niall, striding over with a faint smirk and saying, "Hey, Wonder Girl."