Downfall [Punk Niall Horan]

20

A blank face stared back at me, signaling no emotion whatsoever.

My Grandpa sat there, looking slightly dumbfounded at my rapid words fired at him. But as quick as he placed that look on his face, a new one was put on. Grimacing. Pain. Anger. All of those swirled into one nasty configuration of the face. It was not a pleasant look, and it scared me for what might be swirling behind his mind.

For a moment, I regretted even asking him that question so quickly how I did, or even asking him at all for that matter. Soon enough his face dropped and he rubbed a hand through his gray hair, a motion my father probably picked up from him. "Tylie-," he started, voice ragged.

"No, don't Tylie me. Tell me, or I swear to God I will find a way out of here even if I have to die trying. I'm sure Niall would love to do it," I breathed, nostrils flaring. No matter how much I knew Niall hated me I had a feeling that he pulsar kill me. But then again he just might.

Zaios was shocked at my words, but he quickly recovered with a sigh, "Niall will not lay a finger on you my dear. I just don't want to ruin everything you've ever known. You're whole world will crash down around your feet," he told me, pain pronouncing in his deep voice.

"Well it's already too late for that," I stated, crossing my shaky arms and eyeing him angrily. He was trying to scare me off, but I could not just keep running anymore. Shaking my head, I stared into his green eyes, "Start talking, Grandpa Z." His name felt foreign off my tongue, but neither one of us payed much attention to it.

He heaved a deep breath and sat his large, laced hands in front of him with a sigh. "Well it all started with your Great Grandfather." I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily, already having pieced this information together from my talk with Ivanna.

"Tell me something I don't know." A light, proud smile carved on to his old face that was weathered by stress and time, then it faded as quick as it had came. As always reality had crumbled the few waking seconds of happiness. "You should know that your Great Grandfather had Huntington's Disease. His mind was a messed up sphere of dangerous ideas and thoughts, and he hallucinated a lot, and passed out all the time on a daily basis."

Zaios paused, regaining his breath and checking to see how I was holding up. Learning that my Great Grandfather had a disease wasn't that huge to me because obviously he was sick in the head to start all of this.

After pondering on it for a few moments, I looked back up to my grimacing Grandfather. Only now I learned how hard it must have been growing up with a father like that. My father might be a monster, but at least he did not show me while growing up.

My straight face softened, and I frowned a little when I connected my eyes with his sad ones. Zaios' fingers mindlessly flipped through the pages in front of him, obviously somewhere else far away in his mind. With heavy eyes he finally met my gaze again, and then he continued, "Soon enough, it drove him to the brink of insanity, because he stopped taking his medicine a long time before this happened."

My blood ran ice cold, and goosebumps ran rampant over my pale skin. It felt like my soul had just shriveled up inside me and tucked itself somewhere where I could not find it. The similarities were uncanny between my Great Grandfather and I.

These were all exactly my problems for the past eight years. Passing out, having dangerous ideas and thoughts, and I had even seen things before that weren't actually there. I hadn't felt like myself in a long time, and not to mention now that I was down here and didn't have my medicine.

Would I turn into a viscous person? Recent events had my shivering at the thought that maybe I already was a vicious person. I had killed two people in the span of a month, and I had been plagued by the voice of my violator and my brother.