Downfall [Punk Niall Horan]

22

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Constantly, sounds floated into my subconscious thoughts until it brought me to the surface of some unknown memory from a different time.

My 8 year old hands rubbed at my sleepy eyes as I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling, letting the harsh sounds grate on me. The pounding sound continued, followed by the pounding music I'd grown accustomed to at this time of night.

Since Harry was 16 now, I didn't sleep in his room anymore. Not because he had pushed me away, but because I had pushed myself away from him, wanting to be independent and strong just like he was.

Harry's music never failed to wake me up, though. And most times I would just lie there until I fell back asleep, or until the sun rose completely. But tonight, I couldn't take it anymore. There was a big spelling test tomorrow, and I needed a good nights sleep.

Quietly, I threw the covers off of my petite body, the coldness quickly encasing me. Wrapping my arms around my tiny frame, I flung the door open and padded down the route I knew oh so well.

My fist rapped on Harry's door twice, and the thudding instantly stopped. Footsteps came towards the door, and my brother ripped it open. For a second his eyes focused above me, thinking one of our parents might be knocking on the door this late at night.

They quickly drifted back down to me, and a light smile took over his face. Small dimples shown on his red face. Sweat trailed down the side of his face, and down his shirtless body. I crinkled my nose in disgust.

"You need a shower," I stated, holding my nose in disgust. His smile widened and he kneeled down so he was at eye level with me. Over the years, he had shot up way over six feet and towered above me like a giant.

Lightly, he pushed me. "Why are you up, love?" I gasped and put my tiny hands on my hips. "Why do you think, Harry? You make so much noise! And I have a big test tomorrow!" I whined, stomping my foot like a child.

A torn shirt was rapped around his head, pushing his mop of mahogany curls back from his face. It only illuminated his perfect white smile that always calmed me somehow. "Well, looks like you get a head start to study some more, wouldn't you say?" He teased me, arching an inquisitive eyebrow. He pulled a weird look, jutting his lips out. Which only meant one thing.

Marcel.

"Please, Harry. Not Marcel," I tried, backing away. Giggles already started escaping me as I took off down the hall back towards the safety of my room. His swift footfalls fell behind me until I was scooped up in the air and into a sweaty, bare chest.

"Gotta study, Ty," he started, in a high pitched, squeaky voice. Like he had a lot of allergies. Now I knew I was not going back to sleep tonight at any cost. He carried me toward my room, and found my study guide sitting on my vanity when we got in there.

Harry threw me on my bed as I was in a fit of giggles while he grabbed the paper from my vanity. A toned hip stuck out, and a slender hand fell on his face, studying. "Well, well what do we have here? Cute as a button, every single one of them," he inquired, making me fall over in a heap of laughter.

But as Harry walked over to me, his face morphed into a pale complexion that startled my younger self. It was no longer the loving brother that was here a second ago, but a haunted apparition of him.

Immediately I stopped laughing as blood pooled from behind his headband in a large gush. Burns started to stretch across his ghostly skin, a sickening crimson color. And my father stood behind him, holding a flickering lighter.