Treacherous

Chapter Thirty-Five

*~*~* Niall's POV *~*~*~

I yank the keys out of the ignition, my emotions bordering on frustration and fear. I feel as though I may collapse if I take one wrong step. I'm hoping to get out of here while only having a brief conversation.

The keys jingle as I place them into the lock, taking a deep breath before turning them and pushing the door open.

A tiny alarm goes off to alert Amie that I'm here, but I ignore it and start walking to the bedroom. It doesn't look like anyone's home considering that all of the lights are turned off, so I come to the conclusion that she spent the night at Louis', a place where I am no longer welcome.

I flip the light switch in the bedroom up, looking around the room and sighing. This was our room.

The bed sheets are disarrayed and a few pillows lay on the floor. She never liked to make the bed anyways. Books and papers cover every inch of the room. It looks like she threw a major tantrum in here.

And maybe she did. It wouldn't be unlikely.

"Oh, God," I whisper as I absorb the messy room. "I'm so sorry, Amie."

"What did you say?" A soft voice behind me asks. I jump, scared out of my wits.

Turning around, I find Amie standing there with a high heel clasped tightly in her hand. She lowers it, recognizing me, but I must say, she did look pretty intimidating with that pointy shoe. Getting stabbed with that would not feel good.

At least I know that she can defend herself if need be.

"Answer me!" she shouts.

"I-I didn't say anything!" I yell, but decide that it sounds too weak. "Now shut your trap, woman."

She gasps, but ends up laughing. What?

"And what's so funny?" I ask, sighing and walking around the room, plucking all of my belongings off of the littered ground.

"Oh, nothing. It's just that I'm still trying to wrap my head around how the hell you kept me head over heels in love with you for 3 f*cking years."

My eyes widen and the items I had already picked up fall to the floor as I hear her drop the f bomb. She hates cussing. I must've pissed her off pretty bad.

It's only when she staggers and leans onto the wall that I comprehend why she let those words slip. She's still drunk. Maybe less than she was at the bar, but still woozy.

I shouldn't be too surprised. I saw her down at least 3 average sized drinks while I was watching her.

"I used to think you were perfect," she trails on, not really caring if I'm listening or not. Of course I listen, though.

"You were some kind of angel to me. You always knew what to say to make me feel better, but now all you do is throw insults at me like I'm some sort of inconsiderate slut."

I remember when we had the conversation where we talked about how she would be such a hilarious drunk. But really the alcohol only adds more of a fiery effect to her already spunky attitude.

"I'm sorry," I whisper again, so quiet that she can't hear me. But somehow she did.

"What was that?" She takes a step closer to me, the stench of alcohol lining her breath.

"I didn't say anything, bitch. Now go away." I tread backwards until I'm pressed up against the wall. She giggles and stumbles forward toward me.

She starts to fall forward and my only two options are to let her fall or catch her. Knowing that I've caused her way too much pain already, I catch her.

She falls straight into my arms and my throat clogs up at how light she is. I thought she had lost weight after the shooting, but this is ridiculous. This is too much. This is unhealthy. This is my doing.

She giggles, bringing a finger to her lip and twisting it around innocently. "Why do you not love me anymore?" She seems to be able to talk about it as if there's no tension at all in the air, but maybe that's just me.

"I just don't," I mutter, pulling my suitcase out of the closet after setting her down on the bed.

"But why?" she whines again, pulling at a few stray strings that hang off the hem of her shirt.

"Because." I start to angrily throw my clothes into the suitcase, mad at the world for what it did to us.

She no longer giggles and laughs as she talks. She seems to have sobered up tremendously in the past 2 minutes. "Because isn't an answer. That's just an excuse not to answer me."

I sigh, hating how she's so smart even when her brain is muddled. "You're drunk, so I don't have to answer you. You probably won't remember this in the morning anyways."

"And what if I do?" she asks, laying back on the bed. I ignore her question, hoping that the memory of her ever asking it will somehow float away from her. Her shirt, which used to be snug on her slim figure, is now flimsy and hangs around her loosely. The sight pains me. Does she never eat?

Then again, I bet I don't look too much better. Being away from her and her pestering self I have forgotten or neglected to eat. She's killing me while doing absolutely nothing. This is another reason why I absolutely need her. She's the air I breathe and without it I will suffocate.

All of my stuff is packed away into the millions of bags Amie insisted I have. Looks like they were actually useful. This just wasn't exactly the way I thought I'd be using them. Trips, tours, and vacations were what I was planning on using these many bags for, not moving out.

Holding onto the thought of her not remembering this in the morning, I walk over to her and move her so that she's laying in the bed correctly. It doesn't take that much effort, even with my deteriorated muscles. She doesn't put up much of a fight, so I pull the blanket over her and tuck her in like I used to. The way where she could never seem to escape the soft, but suffocating grasp of the material.

She smiles sleepily, reminding me of a young child. Soon her breathing slows and she falls into a soft sleep, still smiling.

I wish I could still get her to smile instead of cry.

I place a feathery soft kiss to her forehead and whisper, "I love you, Amie."

Grabbing all of my bags, I lug them all out to my car, but run back in to reprogram Eliza to remember nothing of my appearance. Then I exit the house that used to be ours, locking the door behind me.

XxXxX

Sorry for the late update! Our football team had our first game yesterday and we won 21-0! Yay! Anyways, updates will be less frequent considering I have more afterschool activities going on.

But sadly, I have to say that I am pretty sure that Treacherous isn't winning the Watty Awards this time around... The judges did this thing called a #VotingFrenzy, where the rules pretty much don't apply, and I wasn't on at the time to tell you all about it. I honestly don't think it was fair considering that the fanfiction in first place right now only had 2 voters, but okay.

Treacherous is #1 to you guys and that's all I care about!!! xx

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Nezza xx