She's Not Afraid. (Niall Horan)

Chapter 31.

Marina.

I didn't get mail, it wasn't because I was extremely unpopular – or it could have been, but it was mainly due to the fact no one knew where I was currently living and a little thing called modern technology i.e.; email happened. 

So when I rummaged through the letterbox at the bottom of Niall's apartment building for his mail, whilst he was at work and came across one addressed to myself I started to momentarily freak out. 

Once I stood in the elevator waiting for it to move I took the opportunity of serenity to examine the letter further. In a much calmer manner than before I read over said address and frowned. I recognised the handwriting and I really wished I didn't. Not like it would change the contents of the envelope but it still would have been nice. I sighed half-heartedly, stuck the letter at the bottom of the pile and flicked through the rest of the mail. Bill, bill, random fan mail that had somehow got there and the latest edition of Cosmopolitan, Niall could deny all he wanted that it wasn't his, but it certainly wasn't mine. This was perfect black mail material for future events. 

The bell dinged and the doors slowly opened letting me step out and dawdle back inside the flat. This was becoming a regular routine. Wake up, have breakfast with Niall, he went to work, I watched TV, get the mail, 'accidentally' fall asleep on the sofa for another three hours, look for a job online, make dinner and wait for him to come home. I didn't mind the routine but I was starting to feel like a caged animal. I needed to do something, anything but jobs were scarce and my résumé wasn't appealing to any employers – I was beyond frustrated.

Niall joked that I could become his personal assistant, or in other terms; personal slave. Apparently I would be great for bringing him tea and coffee during breaks, making a fresh lunch and carrying his stuff everywhere. That offer was 'politely' declined as I hit him over the head with a rolled up magazine several days ago. 

Once I was back inside the comfort of the apartment, I tugged off my shoes and resumed my comfortable position on the sofa. I slung my feet up on the coffee table, switched the TV onto the cake channel and tossed the mail onto the table. I was already looking forward to winding Niall up about his interesting magazine subscription. Should I be worried though? Isn't Playboy more to a teenage boys taste? 

I reached forward and grabbed the letter with my name scribbled on the front in precise, immaculate handwriting. I rolled my eyes just thinking about what the inside would hold. Without wasting anymore time I slid my finger under the seal, something I apparently wasn't good at and therefore ended up with a stinging paper cut. I sucked the blood off my finger and snatched the letter from inside. Instead of reading from the top to bottom my eyes shifted straight towards the end of the page and confirmed my previous suspicion. Stamped on – she was evidently too lazy to even write her own name – was Elizabeth and her other accompanying details. My aunt had to do everything specifically and informatively, including signing her own name. 

My eyes flicked back to the top and slowly started reading along the lines. I was expecting a hate filled message about how much she hated me, how I was wasting my life and I was causing the family shame. But to my surprise it was nothing of the sort. In fact I felt tears well in my eyes as my eyes scanned over the letters spread out on the page. 

The main context was short, but it stung and I wasn't sure how to feel. I sat in complete silence, after I turned the TV off minutes ago as I continued to reread the letter. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat, bit down on my lip and squeezed my eyes shut. 

I didn't want to feel anything, I wanted to be numb and emotionless but that wasn't going to happen. Without realising a stream of tears poured down my face, I choked several times on my tears. My nose was running, my eyes were stinging from the tears and my hands were shaking violently. I wanted to scream but my voice had been lost, the only sounds coming from my mouth were hysterical cries.