Downfall [Punk Niall Horan]

41

NIALL'S POV

My heart dropped into my acidic stomach when I heard her final remarks, and saw the single glistening tear slip down her pink cheek. She look so defeated, so utterly fucking broken and it was all because of me. Everything and nothing all at once registered in my mind as she grabbed Luke's hand and walked out of my life for good.

Suddenly I didn't feel so mad at her anymore, and I became disgusted at myself for what I actually was about to do with some whore. I never let her explain to me, and instead I went out on a heartbroken limb so I could hurt her just how she had hurt me. But the look on her face that I caused made me quickly sober up.

I rushed to the back of the bar, hands covering my mouth as I ran towards the restroom. With my booted foot I harshly kicked open the door and threw myself into the stall. My stomach constricted and I heaved into the dirty bowl. Images of her heartbroken face, and her hauntingly broken voice floated around in my mind. With each word and whisper of her voice, I heaved once again into the toilet, emptying everything that I had consumed.

I had told Tylie that she was nothing to me, and that was so fucking far from the truth.

Another forceful heave emerged from me, and I collapsed into the floor with sweat soaking my brow. I drug my hand across my lips haphazardly, then shoved both of them into my messy hair while I rested my elbows on my knees. Blankly, I stared at the nasty wall of the stall with profanities written across it, and I barely registered the cold hands that fell on my shoulders.

An overly made up face hovered in front of me, a face that I did not want to see right now. "Sweetie, you're okay," she drawled, rubbing her hands up my legs. I swatted them away, cutting her with my cold gaze.

"Don't fucking touch me," I growled, pushing myself up off of the floor. "Excuse me?" Octavia fired back, pressing a hand on her tiny hip. Not like the wide hips I loved on another girl that I just wrecked.

"You fucking heard me. I don't want your whore hands on me," I spat, taking joy in the way she flinched at my words. But yet, she had the audacity to push me up against the wall and connect her lips to my neck and then pressed a wet kiss to my cheek. "That's not what you were saying earlier," she whispered seductively. But instead of being turned on by it how I was earlier, I was only sickened by it.

"Do you see how pitiful you look? How could I want a whore like you when the beautiful girl I love just walked away from me?" I seethed, so close to punching her in the face.

That was only the second time I had admitted that, and I still wasn't sure what love actually was. But for right now, it fit in this moment and got her to back away. She scoffed and placed both hands on her hips, eyeing me distastefully.

"Says the one who called me. You were the one all bent over what she did to you, and you told me you wanted to hurt her. So guess what, dick? You've gotten your wish," she started, walking up and drawing a finger up my chest until she lay her hand flat over my heart, "And sweetie, you may love her, but she sure as hell doesn't love you." Octavia bopped me on the nose, then backed away with a sickening smile, "At least, not after tonight. Not after what you did."

With that she pulled herself off of me and swayed her hips, heels clonking all the way towards the door. My heart dropped into my abdomen as her words hit me straight in the face. She was right, the whore I was about to fuck over Tylie was right.

Ashton was right, and I should have listened to him before I even walked out of the house. This was all my fault, she would never believe me ever again. She would never believe that my feelings were genuine. And she would chose Luke over me. Tylie would choose the person who destroyed her soul the most.