Mistaken (Niall Horan)

24. Help and Kill

Chapter (24) - Help and Kill

“Can you explain?” I addressed Jack, not really knowing how to feel.

I was afraid because this stranger was creeping me out. I was kind of annoyed that Jack invited someone else and didn’t tell me all this time. I was surprised by the man’s sudden appearance. I was confused. Nothing was clear, and I hated nothing in life more than ambiguity.

“That is my father, Niall, Steven Hudkinson,” Jack explained with a smile that sort of bugged me. “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t tell you he was here.”

Oh, not at all, Jack. It just made me want to punch you. Ah, let me add anger to the weirdest mixture of feelings ever felt by Niall Horan. I had no idea if the reasons I listed were the real ones I had. These were just feelings, and I am not one of those people who can always state reasons for their emotions.

“Of course he doesn’t mind my presence, do you, Horan?” Steven said with confidence I found no reason for. “He can’t mind my presence if he’s gonna help me.”

“Help you with what?” I frowned at Jack’s father.

“With work of course,” the man answered.

He was talking very casually, like he was discussing the weather, talking to me like he was a good friend of mine. All his gestures were very sure that I would accept tohelp him… little did I know what kind of help it was.

“And what is that work?” I asked, still unsure of everything this man did. He was purely suspicious, despite how casual he looked and acted.

“Niall, what jobs bring a lot of money?” Jack asked when his father motioned for him to.

“Law, engineering? I dunno. Whatever job as long as someone’s gonna be good at it,” I answered with what came to my mind first.

I surely wasn’t thinking of what jobs bring a lot of money because even if we were talking about jobs, I still love mine, and I never plan on changing it. That wasn’t the point though; the point is: why the fuck were they asking me such a question?

“Well, we work with law,” Jack said and added before I could say anything about law, “And almost everything else.”

“You’re actors?” I naturally asked, and Steven laughed.

“Look, Horan.”

It was annoying how that old man kept calling me by my last name. It felt really uncomfortable.

“See that man?” he asked and showed me a picture of a man in his mid-twenties.

He wasn’t handsome or good-looking or anything close to that, yet he didn’t look repelling. His green eyes were that genuine kind of eyes which wouldn’t hide a thought or a feeling.

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked though the right question to ask was actually, “Why are you showing me him?”

“He used to work with us. He was a good man… till one day he decided that our job was wrong and came saying he felt guilty about it. And so he left us,” Steven explained.

Wrong? Guilty? What exactly did they work with? Why would someone suddenly decide that a job was wrong? Because it made them feel guilty? And what about it made them feel guilty? Something must be wrong with the job itself, and I for a couple of minutes did not doubt this. They were refusing to say their job, making me go through mazes, then showing me an old workmate. What on Earth was so special about their work?

“And why would he think so?” I asked.

“His reasons. Now he’s working at a circus in Los Angeles,” he said ignoring my question.