Downfall [Punk Niall Horan]

40

NIALL'S POV

The vodka burned as it traveled down my throat. It burned less and less the more I drank it. I don't know how many drinks I had consumed or which drinks I had, all I know was that finally a haze was starting to cover my body and that all of Damon's alcohol was now gone. The grayish cloud of smoke from the joint I was holding bellowed over me, suffocating my mind.

Val was dead.

Tylie was gone, but she was dead to me now.

I shivered as I thought about their names and finished off the bottle. Tylie had killed my sister, and kissed the shitbag I hated the most. As much I wanted to run further than this damn house to find her, those thoughts are what kept me rooted to the spot.

My whole world had fell down crumbling into fucking dust around me in a matter of hours. My little fucking sister that I had worked so hard to protect my whole damn life was now dead, soon to be rotting underground. Worms would be eating away at her skin that I kept clear from all the scars that I had suffered over the damn years. I truly had no family left.

I had fucking no one left.

Growling, I threw the empty glass bottle across the room.  It shattered into tiny pieces, making the floor hazardess. It didn't bother me though as I took another deep inhale of the blunt then threw it to the ground, stomping it out with my foot.

It had been years since I've had any alcohol or drugs, and I vowed to myself the last time I used them and drank that I'd never do it again. But they seemed to call to me, drawing me in until I just couldn't resist the urge anymore.

Tylie had completely fucking wrecked my life, but I still had feelings for her for some fucking reason even though I could barely look at her. And that shit made me even more enraged. In the corner of my drunken mind, a small sober section kept firing questions at me like was she okay? Did she get into the city? And if so, how deep? Where was she?

But still I couldn't pry myself away, too angry with her to care enough. Eventually my drunk side overcame the stupid damn caring thoughts and smothered them out. At the beginning I was so in shock that I told her it was okay, and I even chased her down the stairs.

But fucking finally the realization dawned on me when I made it to the door, and I realized no. No, it wasn't fucking okay. What she did was so fucking far from okay it made me sick. But damn if I still couldn't stop thinking about her. I needed a distraction, a fucking good one.

Reaching in my pants pocket, I pulled out my old phone. I scrolled through my contacts until I reached the right number and took in her name before pressing the call button. It rang a few times, but she picked up on the third ring. "Niall, what a surprise," she purred.

I would've ended the call right there if I was in my right mind, but good thing I fucking wasn't. "Octavia, meet me at the Pub in 5," I whispered lowly, then hung up. Pulling my jacket off of the chair, I stormed towards the door.

My knees slightly buckled underneath me as I carried myself away from the room of sulking, my legs slightly wobbly. My eyes burned and itched as if someone threw chili powder in them, but it didn't faze me as I headed towards the front door.

I rounded the corner and just barely saw Ashton blocking the front door before I ran into him. Through bleary eyes I could see him giving me a disapproving look, making me understand he knew what I was about to do. "Don't do it, Niall," he told me, voice laden with sadness.

"Fuck off," I said, trying to shove past him. Ashton had other plans as he grabbed me by my shirt and slammed me against the door, making it shake on its hinges. A low throbbing spread down my back, numbed by the alcohol and drugs I had consumed. Normally I would be able to handle him easily, but with the alcohol and drugs in my system it made me weaker. More vulnerable.