Unsolved Mysteries *stopped*

7.2 Sunday

We leave my flat and step into the cold winter wonderland. It's freezing. Niall's gloved hand straightaway searches mine. Out of impulse, i accept his hand around mine.

It feels as if they were made for each other, fitting perfectly.

No, stop, Ophelia. Those thoughts won't get you anywhere. Even if he liked you that way, you promised yourself not to get involved with anyone. Remember? Because you're afraid that if you start caring about somebody again, you'll be completely devastated once you lose them. You'll be back to the state you were in four years ago.

But that's exactly the same state I'm in now.

It hits me. I am still horrified by nightmares, i still feel the emptiness inside of me, i still feel the loss and the injustice. Life is a bitch, and it proves itself over and over again. I'm nowhere near over my past and i guess i never will be.

Maybe a relationship will help.

No, this is ridiculous. First of all, a relationship isn't a time machine. Secondly, he doesn't like me anyway. Thirdly, i don't really like him either. There is no point in thinking about this anymore.

I pull my hand away after a few moments. I'm not going to walk around holding hands with him. We're not dating or anything, so there's no point. He lets out a deep sigh, his breath making little clouds in the cold air. I keep staring ahead of me, refusing to look at him. Chester stops to do his business and i feel Niall's arm touching my shoulder. In every other situation, i would've flinched back, but I've shared so many small touches with Niall now, flinching back seems ridiculous. When Chester is done we walk again, in silence.

I remember days like these from my childhood. The nuns send me and the other children out to find little objects so we could make ornaments or the kind. We usually brought little leaves or stones back. Pieces of wood and branches. Sticks were popular as well. All the kids used to run in every direction possible and Sister Nancy would put an old tablecloth on the big dining table, so we could spread our findings out on it. Those were the nice days.

There were other days, when a sister beat you until you bled, because you weren't dedicated to god enough. I've had many beatings, never from Sister Nancy though. And there were worse days, when a cardinal or father came into the huge sleeping room in the middle of the night, picked one of the little girls up and brought her to his bedroom. It was disgusting. Only the thought makes me want to throw up.

Before i know it, a warm salty teardrop falls down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away so Niall can't see it, but it's too late. I never cry, it's useless. Crying doesn't help a situation. Those memories of my childhood managed to make me unusually emotional though. I hardly ever think about the orphanage, i try to push the memories away. My life is fucked up, has always been fucked up and will always be that way.

Niall looks at me concerned. He takes my hand now, squeezing it a little and not letting go when i try to pull away. "Ophelia, what's wrong?" I shake my head. I can't tell him. He knows i grew up in an orphanage, but he doesn't know how we were treated. I don't want to upset him with it either. It's my problem after all, nobody will ever be able to take those memories from me, so why bother anyone? "It's just... cold." I look at the snow under my feet, not trusting myself to lie to Niall. He squeezes my hand again, then lays his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to him. I feel his warmth, i can hear his heartbeat. I feel safe. We walk in our little embrace until we are back at my flat.

Inside, i hang the leash on its hook and kick my trainers out. Niall is waiting in the door, so I hurriedly grab my handbag, put on a pair of light Uggs and go back to Niall. "Ready?" He asks me with a huge grin on his face. "Ready." I also smile. A fake smile.