Enchanted n.h. au

Chapter Ten

Niall's P.O.V.

My knuckles were white with my harsh grip on the steering wheel. White flashes of panic would surge through my nervous system causing a new pain to spread through me. What was so wrong that this kid couldn't tell me? She could be anywhere, with anyone, doing anything. I cringed at the thought, forcing bile back down my throat. If Gypsy was anywhere, with anyone, doing anything, I'd kill him. Whoever was hurting her needed to feel that pain.

The silent car was filled with only the panted breath of Andrew and me. His head was leaned back against the passenger seat, his eyes closed. He swallowed before opening his eyes. I wish he'd talk, I thought. Anything to fill the silence. It was like the hospital: hope and fear fight for dominance, a match never ending.

Andrew wrung his freckled hands as he cracked them. "Shouldn't do that." I mumbled for conversation. He jumped in the seat, his seatbelt restraining him.  He cocked his head to the side, confusion flickering over his face. "Gives ya arthritics."

"Oh." he mumbled softly. I made mental note to thank Harry later for being an encyclopedia of useless information. "Turn here." he muttered. Right now, I questioned Perrie's friend's idea of fun, but he could be worse.

Turning I pulled into a parking lot. From my side, I stared at the black front door. It, along with the dull grey bricks, sent a wave of sadness over me. Gypsy didn't seem like the kind to live dully. Over the door hung a sign engraved with: Maggie's Home for Homeless Angels.

Andrew snorted at the sign, spat on the front step, and walked in.  We crept into the parlor. Lemon pledge, paint, and bleach hit me in the face. I'd never come here with the lads, but I'm sure they had been here. This was their side of town. Louis, Liam, and Harry probably did business in the side lot, and I swore I saw part of Zayn's work on the side.

Lost in thought, I hadn't noticed Andrew had climbed the stairs until he returned, jerked my wrist, and pulled me up. He lead me into a girls bedroom. It's walls were covered in some wallpaper that shouldn't have left 80's suburbia-baby blue and pink plaid.

Pacing back and forth was a young girl. She chewed on her nails. "Shouldn't do that." I spoke up, breaking her from her trance. Andrew muttered something about arthritics causing me to laugh as she jumped but only in her shoulders. Muttering something about scaring me, she went to the doorframe, whistling.

Seconds later a second twin entered the room. He looked rough, like a night of clubbing gone wrong. His red hair was pushed to a side, his skin covered in scribbles of marker, his nails painted in a mixture of colors that formed an ugly shade of puke brown.

He caught my stare. "My name's Alex. I was entertaining the devils, while this arse was out getting you." He pointed to his arms, "Colorin'." he pointed to his nails, "Paintin'."

Despite the eagerness that chomped away at some vital organ, I laughed. It was a quick laugh. Just enough to show I was okay. "Soo," I drew a breath, "where is she?"

The smiles disappeared as quickly as a mime's. "You better sit down." the girl said, pushing me onto the edge of one of the beds. So it was bad. She looked from twin to twin, "Do you guys want to tell him?" both shook their heads,

"You better Katie."

She nodded solemnly. "She's in the box." she confessed like it was some big secret.

"The box". What was "The box"? It sounded like a gigantic cardboard appliance box, with a little hole for air and food. My confused look caused her to elaborate.

"It's the cellar."

I jumped off the bed in anger. I started for the door, a string of Irish cursed flowing freely like genesis on St. Patrick's Day. Who the hell locks a precious thing like Gypsy in a cellar? I was stopped by two sets of surprisingly strong arms. I tried to kicking against them, but I lacked the muscle to escape both.

"Calm"

"down." the two rotated in speaking. That was annoying.

"Child services are on their way." Andrew spoke up. Though it felt nice, it didn't put of the fire. Not like a good punch could. "We can't go get her now, they have to see her."

"Why?" I asked softly staring at the tips of their sneakers. All three were in desperate need of new ones.

"Gypsy was trying to call the newspaper, and Maggie found out. She's been down there for three days now."

Guilt tore away at me. I got pissed because she hadn't called. I thought she didn't want me, but she tried. She tried, and it was my fault. If I'd chased her, she wouldn't be down there. My fingers absent mindedly curled over the locket under my shirt. "Can I at least go talk to her?" I mumbled trying to push back the tears that decided to form.

Standing infront of the old, molded door, my stomach churned. My hand hung in the air. I tried to work up the nerve to knock. I heard mumbles behind me, "Knock."

"Why isn't he knocking?"

"Do you think he knows how to knock?" the twins were doing that stupid thing they do.

I knocked against the giving wood softly, "Gypsy? It's Niall, I'm here." I mumbled, pressing my lips against the door. My forehead rested against, my fringe keeping my head from getting scratched. I let my hand lay flat against the door. Nothing was going to move it. Nothing.

The click  of heels caused me to turn," Excuse me, who are you?" a sickeningly plastic voice asked. Slowly I turned, my eyes shutting in getting caught.