Love... A Niall Horan Love Story

Chapter 29: Separation

Brielle’s P.O.V.

I sat quietly in the police car, not even listening as the police officer in the passenger seat read me my rights. I honestly could care less. All I can think about is Niall, and what is going to happen to me. Soon, though, we pulled up to the police station.

“Not going to run, are you?” the police officer asked.

He’s not joking. I shake my head listlessly, and I’m guided to the police station. Once I’m inside, one jerked me to the side while the other went to a desk and sat down.

“This is your cell,” the man said, and pushed me in.

He didn’t even remove my handcuffs. I didn’t even bother to answer, because I honestly really couldn’t find it in myself to care. I really, really, really, wish I had my diary right now. Or even better-Niall.

“Why are you in here?”  A heavily tattooed man grunted in the cell next to me.

“Why are you in here?” I snapped, not even caring that I was being rude to a criminal.

The man only chuckled. “Robbed a bank,” he shrugged. “You?”

“None of your business,” I growled my fear and sadness coming out as anger.

The man tutted. “Now, no need to be rude. I told you why I was in here.”

I sighed. “I did absolutely nothing.”

The man stared at me for a second then began laughing. He guffawed, slapping hi s knee, even wiping at his eyes. I narrowed my eyes and lunged for the bars, clanging my handcuffs against them. The sound that was produced resembled nails on a chalkboard mixed with a hammer. The man stopped laughing and stared at me with newfound respect.

“Wonder what you did to get here,” he mumbled and sat there, staring at me.

I felt uncomfortable, so I turned to face the wall. Then, I thought of Niall. What is he doing right now? Is he crying? Does he miss me?

You’ll torture yourself asking yourself these questions, I thought.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder. Then, I thought of a night that happened maybe a week ago, when all we did was cuddle all night long.

I was wrapped tight in Niall’s arms, not even close to being able to move. He was half-asleep but still managing to play with my hair.

“You really like my hair, don’t you?” I teased.

“So what if I do?” Niall mumbled, twisting my hair around his finger. “It’s pretty.”

“I like your hair too,” I said, ruffling it.

Niall grunted, apparently liking that. “My hair is ugly.”

I slapped him lightly in the face.

“Ow!” he whined. “What was that for?”

“Your hair is not ugly,” I scolded. “It is very nice. it’s blonde and fluffy.”

“Yeah right,” Niall grumbled.

I raised my hand and Niall flinched. “You’re hair is nice, and say so.”

“My hair is nice,” Niall said meekly.

“Good boy,” I said, patting him on the head.

“I’m not a dog,” he whined, trying to stop me from petting him.

We sat there for a while, and Niall shifted, pulling me across him until the majority of my body was covering him. I rested my head on his chest and Niall continued playing with my hair idly, watching the TV.