Treacherous

Chapter Thirty-Six

*~*~* Amie's POV *~*~*

I wake up to the sound of Eliza telling me that it's time to get up. She does this every day, but most of the time I ignore her and continue to laze around.

My head hurts. This is one example of why I don't drink. You might be able to forget something for a little while, but eventually it will come back and your head will hurt like hell. As mine does now.

It would work if I simply stayed drunk for the rest of my life, but I refuse to resort to that. Stooping that low is not in my intentions.

When I try to move my hand to my head, I realize that it's caught in something. Both of them are. And I'm sweating like a pig. I groan and roll around, struggling under the thick material of the blanket.

The struggle is real.

My head is pounding so hard that it feels like my brain is trying to break out of my skull. Moving around doesn't help at all. Eventually Eliza comes to the rescue and tugs the blanket off of me, freeing me from the death oven.

The thought keeps occurring to me that Niall is the only one that does that for me. He's the only one that can keep me trapped, but in more ways than one.

When I'm freed from the suffocating blanket, the tears are let loose. I vaguely remember something about me speaking to Niall last night, but that was probably just at the bar.

But then who tucked me in? It could've been Eleanor or Louis, but I doubt it. Niall is the only one who knows how to do it that well. It was exactly how he used to.

"God, Amie. You're so pathetic," I whisper softly to myself, sniffling at the end. I am, though. He doesn't care about me anymore and here I am, crying my eyes out at the thought of him tucking me in.

Yeah, I'm pathetic.

*~*~*

I ask Eliza nice and quiet to get me some painkillers and a bottle of water, but she comes back later with some kind of tea, saying that it will help my head better. I trust her now since she's been there for me for the last few days and hasn't gone on about how it's going to be okay.

Everyone tells me that and it seems like a second later that things take a turn for the worst.

Like last night for example. I had started to get back up after lying on the floor for weeks when Niall just happened to be there. At the exact same bar.

All of those insults flash through my mind and I start crying all over again. I swipe a hand over my head, cringing at how there's no hair. Those long, blonde strands of mine no longer frame my face or cascade down my back as they say. It's simply not there.

I was always sort of insecure before, but now it's been taken to a completely different level. When the person you love most in the world calls you repulsive, it does things to you. Bad things.

I wrap a hand around my stomach, flinching at the unfamiliar feel of my own skin. I'm so skinny now. I always wanted to lose a little weight, but this is uncalled for. My bones stick out in some places and my skin has been pulled tight. I'm so unhealthy.

Why did that guy, James, stop and talk to me last night? According to Niall I am not easy on the eyes, and to him I never was. Maybe it was because I looked so incredibly bad and.. heartbroken, as he said. He's going through the same thing I am and maybe he looked just as bad, but I can't tell.

I guess that's a good thing about being blind. I can no longer judge people on their appearances. I used to be so bad about that, but now I have no choice. James could've been the ugliest person in the world, but due to his attitude I like him. A lot.