d.u.i » niall horan a.u (on hold atm)

e l e v e n

I spent countless days from that night on in the same position in front of my dad's computer screen, watching as he helplessly sat there with no comfort or sense of safety at all. I mean, I know that's the point of being held in jail, but he doesn't deserve what he's being faced with. 

Tonight, I was staying the night here in my dad's office. My overnight bag was placed in the seat my mother had always sat in, and I had a King Size bag of Cool Ranch Doritos facing towards me on my dad's desk. 

My dad sometimes invites me to his office whenever he's either feeling sorry about something, or wanting "quality time with me." He doesn't get to sleep until like four in the morning anyways, so it's basically just a night to myself in the silence of his cold, well-kept office. 

He's been working a lot on Niall's upcoming court dates, which has been taking a toll on me. If the judge pleads guilty, it's over and my river boy is gone, alhthough if he's announced not guilty, he's allowed out of this place. Which is sort of a lose-lose situation. 

If he gets sent to prison, I will most likely never see him again. He won't have the ability to sneak my dad's phone to make those calls to me, he won't be able to see me at all. And what if he's innocent and gets to go back to his partying, getting drunk, do-whatever days? He either will forget about me, or my parents won't allow him within a 100 foot perimiter of me.

The cell I saw through the camera was sort of like two rooms in one. There was one part of the room, which Niall had claimed, and the other side was adressed to two older guys who looked like they'd been jacked on every type of steroid known to man. It was divided in the middle by a metal bars that were only put to use during the night hours, which they were to use for slumber for their early start to their daily routine.

What all of that basically means is, they try to torture him and pick at him all day, and those metal bars are the only things that save him from their spiteful actions toward him.

However tonight, for some reason, they weren't descended into proper placement.

Niall's shirt was off and folded neatly beside his bed that was neatly made with a thin sheet and an unfluffed pillow. He looked down at the concrete floors as one of them surrounded him, pushing his shoulders and spitting in his face.

Unfortunately, the camera wasn't equipped with audio, so I had to try to read their lips, which the low-quality picture was interfering with. 

Their body language was penurious, they were breaking him down. I could tell in Niall's gestures that he was at the point of breaking again. What the hell could they possibly be saying to hurt him like this?

He wiped the saliva off of the bridge of his nose and onto the material of his oversized pants, his fingers gripping at the fabric tightly.

 I looked to the other overly-stocky man that sat farthest away from the hateful banter his partner was handing out, his lips were moving quickly. His eyes were full of despair and happiness with himself, happiness at the fact that they were putting Niall beneath him. 

The one finally burried his fist into Niall's cheekbone, causing him to go flying back and hit his head against the thick, noise proof walls of the carefully constructed room. He held the back of his head with his hands, using his elbows to block his face. The other guy took his friends place as if it were a tag team, and swung at Niall's tight abdomen. 

His face was contorted in pain and horror at the actions these men twice his size were undertaking. His baby blue eyes were squeezed tight in their sockets as he fough against their fists, careful not to harm either of them, because that would just result in a more brutal brawl. Blood trickled out of his nostril and rolled off of his lip, causing them to back off. They both looked at eachother, smiled, then went at it again.

Nialls P.O.V 

i could feel the familiar feeling of red liquid making its way down my face as a side effect of my beating. All I could do was lay here, and try to protect myself. My body felt weak from my previous fight, and now it felt even weaker. Even though two 300 pound men were throwing fists and profanity at me left and right, all I could think of was her face. 

She doesn't know it, but I think about her constantly. I think about the day I caught her watching me shoot a couple hoops out on the courts. Her stare was deep, yet also full of infatuation. I remember the first time I saw her. The image was blurry due to my intoxicated though process that night, but I could still somewhat remember our conversation.

I called her hot, and she ignored me, which only made me want her more. When her dad got in the car, she kept making quick eye contact with me through the rearview mirror. I on the otherhand, had my eyes planted on her reflection the whole ride. I couldn't  have cared less what orders and lectures her dad was barking at me, all I cared about was her.

I rose from my thoughts as she burst through the door, her hands latching onto the heavy metal bars which seperated me from the cause of my blood and headache. They stood on the opposite side of the bars, yelling things at her that she was blocking out as she came over to me.

"Are you okay?"

"Alyssa, your dad's going to co-"

"Tell me, do you feel okay?"

I sighed and shook my head. Holding the back of my head and scooting over on the bed some to give her room to sit beside me. She looked at me in misbelief, grabbing the bottom of her shirt and holding it to my nose, putting both her knees on either side of my waist as she stradled my hips innocently to get in a better position for the task. 

Her concentracted eyes soon moved from her hand which was holding fabric of her clothing to my nose, to mine. I tried reading the writing on her shirt, but the letters were faded from many years of wearing and washing. 

"If this is an important shirt, mine is on the floor."

"Are you kidding? It's my dad's old T-Shirt from when he was a counselor at a summer camp, a little blood will do it justice. 

I smiled at her words, watching her hand. 

"Your dad will kill us."

"Good thing Landon's taking over his shift while he takes a nap, right?" She said.

"Is that why the barricade wasn't shut?"

She shrugged and looked behind us at the metal door before turning back towards me, making me tilt my head back again. 

"Probably, he doesn't do shit. And besides, they take the really late night shifts easily, because they think you all are asleep."

I laughed and closed my eyes, acting as if I were sleeping. 

"I could be an actor, right?"

She shook her head, her facial expressions getting more serious by the second.

"How do you do that?" She asked, confusing me.

"Do what?"

"Go from being basically tortured to making jokes? It's not normal."

Our eyes met again, and this time in a more passionate way. Her left hand grasped my right bicep, which was tattooed a bit. Her fingers traced them slightly as she waited for my answer.

"You're right, it's not normal, you just happen to make my thoughts of pain and hatred vaporize into affection."

She lay with me for the rest of the night after the blood stopped. The bottom of her shirt was drenched in the crimson substance, however it didn't bother her. Her body was cold, even with my arms tight around her. 

This was what I've been waiting for. I've wanted to have the privilege to talk to the daughter of the sheriff that caught me in the juvenile action. She almost understood me, in a way that made me want to learn how she could. 

"Your dad will wake us up tomorrow."

"Then we're in for a rude awakening, now aren't we?"

And with those words, we slept.

x x x x x || A/N || x x x x x

I KNOW THIS IS A SHORT CHAPTER BUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS OFFICIALLY TAKING OFF WOW AND THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR GETTING THIS STORY RANKED IT'S AMAZING I WAS SO HAPPY. PLEASE VOTE COMMENT AND SHARE OKAY BYE ILY.