Taking Chances (Niall Horan Punk Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Eighteen: "Cry"

"Mommy! Tell him to stop!"

"Knock it off you two," my mother shouted from the kitchen, but a moment later her shout turned frantic and painful. He and I looked at each other in that second before jumping up and sprinting into the kitchen.

Right as we stepped through the archway, a plate came crashing down passed her head and completely smashed into millions of pieces. He and I gasped instantaneously, unintentionally, and she looked up through the sweat that had formed on her forehead.

"Don't come in here," she immediately said, eyeing the glass on the floor. "You don't have shoes, let alone socks. Stay in the dining room please."

He looked at me with a panicked look, his big brown eyes wide and frightened. I probably matched the expression, only with green eyes like hers.

"Mommy, are you okay?" I cried, feeling the tears pricking at my eyes. For a child, I was pretty emotional.

She looked up, her green eyes slowly dilating. Before I knew it, her eyes had turned completely black, and she glared at me. I screamed, unsure of what else to do. I turned to him, but he looked just like her.

The background of our beautifully clean kitchen, with glass spread all over the floor, slowly faded, and in it's place sat the cliff. I screamed again, now watching as he held the gun out and aimed, carelessly shouting. The shot rang in my ears painfully, and then I watched as he turned to me.

His finger pulled, the shot rang, the pain came, and I only sat with my eyes wide and trained on the now bloody circle imprinted in my body.

He smirked, pleased with himself.

But he wasn't finished; he aimed again, this time over to the spot my mother had once been. In her place sat a toddler, and my widely terrified eyes bugged out of my head, a scream erupting from my lips. I tried to get up and help, hell I tried. But my legs just wouldn't move. I was paralyzed, shot and forced to watch as he pulled the trigger.

My eyes snapped open, a gigantic gasp erupting from my lips so harsh I felt my throat feel raw. I jolted up, frantically looking around the room in fear of him standing with a gun, or a toddler that he wanted dead.

A hand gently came down on my shoulder, leaving another scream to helplessly fall out of my mouth. I jerked away, my eyes snapping to the culprit. Those blue eyes caught my attention, and suddenly I felt my breathing come back ever so painfully slow.

"Niall," I gasped, my heart still beater unbelievably fast. "Oh my God, Niall."

"I'm here, Bri," he whispered to me, pulling me into his arms.

My body was coated in sweat, my face coated with salty water. I wanted to wipe them away, rid them of my cheeks. They were a reminder of the nightmares that just continued to get more and more vivid, more terrifying. I've lived my entire life without my parents, so why would these nightmares make another appearance?

Something told me he was the suspect that caused them to arose, and I knew it was the absolute truth.

My breathing slowly eased, but never stopped being heavy. Niall held me tighter when I began to sob, harder and harder each second that passed. Eventually I got tired of myself, so I only imagined what Niall was feeling.

Frowning, with tears still running down my cheeks, I lifted myself out of his arms and scooted away, holding my arms around myself in case he was going to lash out on me.

But he did no such thing at all.

Instead, he grabbed my hand and held it firmly in the both of his, and waited until I turned to look at him through my tears to say something.

His blue eyes were so soft and calm, filled with worry and fear - surprisingly - and they met mine with such an intensity that it shocked me.

"I'm scared," I croaked, and the moment my scratchy, meek voice entered my ears, I cried again. Never had I wanted to seem vulnerable in front of him, even if I was trying to convince myself that I was falling in love with him.

"About what?"

When I began crying harder, again, he gently pulled me back into his arms and held me there, giving me the greater amount of comfort than I'd ever been given. I melted under his hold, like putty that he could shape and make into whatever he wanted. And I hated it.

"I don't want him to kill anyone else, Niall," I whispered, too afraid that my broken voice would show itself to him. I didn't want him to hear it.

"He won't," he answered confidently, but I was too sure he wasn't just saying it to comfort me.

"You don't know that," I almost shouted, jerking out of his arms once more. I got up from the bed and began pacing. Those damn tears were still falling, too.

What the hell was wrong with me?

He sat there, looking at me in confusion and worry.

"He almost killed Carly, and she's only mine years old. A child. He wouldn't have any problem with actually killing any of you. I mean he killed our parents for God's sake!"

"Brielle, please calm down," Niall said, as he got up from the bed and came to stand in front of me. He tried to place his hands on my arms, but I moved away.

"I can't calm down, Niall," I cried. "He's back and he has plans on coming after me. And I can't even feel safe because you're going out to meet him. You went to club to meet him, right? That's why you were so worried about me being there? That's why you got so defensive with that guy because you wanted to leave and get me out of there. You meet him all the time, and he thinks you're on his side. All you do is make plans to take me on that cliff, so I don't even know if you're truly on his side or not."

My rant and worry had truly gotten to Niall, and I could see it in his eyes. He knew I was scared, tired, frantic. When he looked down, completely defeated, I felt my heart completely shatter in my chest.

What in the hell did I do? Why did I have to be a bitch? Why couldn't I have kept my damn mouth shut.

"Niall, I'm so sorry," I croaked, more tears pricking at my eyes. "I didn't mean that, I swear. Oh my God, I'm sorry."

I crumbled to the floor, now more broken than I'd ever been. How could I say that to him? After all he'd done for me, all that he's told me, how could I?

I thought he hated me, especially now, but I was completely bewildered when I felt his hands gently pull me up and help me back to the bed. I still cried, of course. My emotional ass hadn't cried enough tears just yet.

He climbed in beside me, pulling my body tightly to his. And there he held me, tighter than ever before, easing my worries and fears, calming my heart and my mind, erasing my tears.

My rant about not being safe was terribly false, because I've never felt more safe than when I was laying in his arms.

I realized that now, and I'll never doubt him again.

~

Sorry, terribly short chapter. I wanted to give you a small piece of the type of nightmares she has, and I wanted to kind of fill a little bit, too. I'll do better with the next. Thank you.