Never Let Me Go

ALONE

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

It is strange, watching the news these days. So many bad things are happening in the world, murders, rapes, kidnappings, terrorist attacks. But it seems like the cute little news anchors all dolled up in their suits or dresses have only one interest at the moment, and that's my Niall. 

They are obsessed, like my baby was a god from the heavens taken away from us. Sure, he looks and-oh yes, feels-like a god, but he definitely isn't anywhere close. Every time I turn on my damned television all I see is his pretty face flashing onto the screen, apparently the world has now stopped since my Niall isn't in the spotlight anymore. 

No one knows though, that I can't and will not live without him. I have the knowledge that they won't move on so quickly, but maybe in another month or two he will become a shadow in everyones memories, nothing but past-tense. I just have to be patient and realize my time will come when I can finally have him without having to worry about every reporter in the world landing on my doorstep. 

Oh, but I almost missed the greatest piece of entertainment from all this. This entry is getting pretty long but I can't help it, I had recorded it just to watch it over and over and over again. Solely because I wanted to laugh until I cried. 

Those air-heads, Liam, Louis, Zayn, and Harry, the four lads that stood on that platform in front of all those reporters and cameras to answer questions alongside my babies rat parents. They all looked so sad, so torn. I loved to pause on their faces, their expressions, just to look into their eyes and see how fake they truly are. I took Niall off their hands, they don't have to worry about him anymore, they are probably happy inside, getting ready to make another album as a four-piece without him. His parents have probably arranged a celebration after the press-conference, everyone at their house to get shit-faced. 

I think I will stop there for now, I am sitting in my living room watching the news as I write, and it gave me the urge to fill a couple more pages in this journal. 

The fakes will be exposed soon, and then Niall will see, 

Timothy______,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Niall is a natural now, it's like a routine for him that gets easier and easier every day that passes as slowly and painfully as possible. In the morning, he will always wake up to Timothy laying right beside him, spooning him like a girl and arms tightly wound around his waist. Niall knows not to struggle, doesn't pull away or let out little whimpers and cries, he just stays as still as possible till Timothy wakes and gets up to make himself breakfast. Then, Timothy will come back upstairs with a newspaper stuffed under his armpit. He will sit on the bed with Niall bound with his wrists tied around his back, a cloth stuck inside his mouth enough for the saliva to be completely dried up. But he doesn't complain, he just lets Timothy move a hand up and down the inside of his thigh, squeezing and groping him till the man is satisfied and done reading his daily news. 

Timothy will then disappear for a few hours, which leaves Niall time to wiggle off the bed and read through the journal. Read the recent entries that his kidnapper had written. He has read and re-read the whole book by now, and has cried more times then he can count. Niall wants to feel brave enough to go into the room connected to Timothy's room, the one with all the paintings and pictures. But he still feels the tug in his heart, and poisoned thoughts and images of Timothy coming home and him not being able to get back to the bed fast enough and getting caught. 

He can't have that again, he's not sure he can deal with another beating or rape. He can take the groping, the pictures that the man will take sometimes, or the painting he has to pose for. But not another painful experience that will scar up his mind more than it already is.