One Direction Imagines/Preferences :) (REQUESTS CLOSED)

Niall Imagine for @asiabew1

Niall Imagine for Nyasia

**Nyasia's P.O.V**

You know how in school, they always warn you about abusive relationships and such? And you know those people that listen and absorb the information, but still end up in one of those situations? Yeah, I'm one of those girls.

Me and my boyfriend, (Y/BF/N), had been going out for five months. For the first four months, he had been lovely. He had taken me out on dates and took me shopping. He had protected me from anyone who bothered me, and would listen to me whenever I complained or was upset about something.

And then his dad left.

One morning, (Y/BF/N) and his mother had woken up, and his dad was gone. Disappeared into thin air. He had left them, saying that he had found someone new and he didn't want to be here anymore. (Y/BF/N)'s mother was devastated, sinking into a depression. And (Y/BF/N) turned abusive. Whenever he was upset or angry about something, even a little thing, I would be his punching bag to vent his feelings out on. Even when I tried to comfort him, he would slap me. It was nothing serious; Just a few slaps, punches, and bruises. But it still hurt.

I cared for (Y/BF/N). I did. But I didn't love him anymore. How can you love someone who hurt you so much? But I didn't tell anyone about the abuse. Not my parents. Not my teachers. Not even my best friend, Niall.

It was easy to hide as well. I lived in a flat with (Y/BF/N), and my teachers never really noticed since I sat in the back for every class. And Niall was always on tour or something with One Direction.

"Nyasia?!" my boyfriend boomed.

"Yeah?"

"Get up, and change. We're going out tonight," he bluntly said, walking to my closest and rummaging through my clothes. He picked out a short red dress that was pretty revealing. He had bought that for me three weeks ago, and I hated it. The dress had a very low top, it scrunched at all my curves, and it was a constant struggle to keep my butt covered. "Here," he said, throwing the dress at me.

"I'm not wearing that! I'll look like a slut!"

"You are a slut. And you will wear it," (Y/BF/N) growled before slamming the door behind him. I sighed and quickly changed, doing my hair and makeup in record time. I grabbed my red heels and slipped them on before running down the hall. Well, as fast as you can in heels.

"I'm ready," I murmured, grabbing a clutch with my phone and about fifty bucks in it.

(Y/BF/N) looked up and then left the house, heading to the car. That was it. No "Wow, you look beautiful!" or no staring at me with awe like a boyfriend should.

I really should end this relationship before the abuse got worse. But I was scared. (Y/BF/N) was at least twice my size. He could take me out in a heartbeat. When did this get so hard?

We arrived at the club, the music blaring so loud that I could hear it while still inside his car. People were constantly going in and out of the club. People going in were all bubbly, already dancing and laughing with their friends. People coming out were usually stumbling and clinging on to someone that they probably didn't come there with.

"Come on," (Y/BF/N) ordered. I got out of the car, and immediately pulled my dress down. My boyfriend came over and took my hand. I guess he had to try and act like a boyfriend in public. The line to get inside was packed, and from what I could see inside, the club was busier tonight than usual.

"Why is it so busy tonight?" I asked my boyfriend. But he ignored me, like usual. He told his name to the security outside, and the security nodded, and then answered my previous question.