d.u.i » niall horan a.u (on hold atm)

t w e l v e

**still Niall's point of view btw**

Many days passed without seeing her, which caused me to want to pull my hair out. day's without even a glimpse of her have absolutely no point to them at all.

We were only asleep for an hour before she woke up due to the anxious thoughts of her dad finding us asleep together. I was woken by her fingertips brushing the chilled skin of my cheeks, however she didn't know I was awake. I kept my eyes closed, pretending I was still caught up in my dreams, as if they were more interesting and intriguing than her.

Her lips made contact with my cheek in a hurried peck before getting up and exiting the room, the noise of the locks indicating that she was making sure everything was left as it was before she entered.

I look for her everywhere. When I'm out playing basketball, when i'm getting the dinner that's unfortunately forced down our throats as a policy to keep us healthy. Sometimes, I take the risk of looking out of the small, barred window to try to see her brunette waves bouncing around as she walked throughout the lobby or the hallways, but sadly, she's been nowhere in sight, and it's been getting to me.

The irritating buzzing sound rang throughout the spacious room as a signal for us to get dressed for breakfast. My heart sank and I burried my head deeper into the somewhat soft pillow, only for one of the other guys in my cell to yank me up, throwing my orange suit at my feet.

"Get dressed, we don't need you holding us up for inspection."

I swallowed hard and ignored them as I pulled brushed some dirt off of my white undershirt, which was stained with mysterious substances, before pulling on the baggy shirt they've given all of us as a uniform.

I wish they would give us all different colors to what extent our crime was. Like for instance, rape could be black, murder could be red, theft could be blue. It actually somewhat makes sense. We're all put together with the same color, orange. We're all treated equally and I don't think that's right. People should be treated and labeled due to the severity of the crime that they committed.

After I pulled my pants on, and tightened them to my waist, I was put against the wall forcefully for inspection. Her dad luckily wasn't the one on the job this morning. He always makes sure to be extra hard on my with his pat downs and pushes.

They felt up my legs and sides, and even between my legs quickly to make sure I hadn't picked anything up throughout the night, which is quite stupid in my opinion. Although everything's either stupid or wrong in my opinion, so people tend to ignore what I have to say about things.

We were released to walk single file along the right side of the wall to the cafeteria. We weren't allowed to talk to our inmates until we sat down to eat. I can't really comment on that, I don't feel any desire to talk to any of these dick's anyways.

I finally made my way to an empty table with my food. This morning, it was oatmeal and a half of a banana with chocolate milk. Not too bad I guess.

I stabbed around the oatmeal before an orange suit same and sat across from me. He was bigger than I am, ninety-nine percent of everyone here is. On his tray, everything was the same. He looked at mine and smiled, shaking his head.

"They feed the nastiest shit, man."

I nodded in response, taking a bite from the banana. "Yeah."

"How do you get away with it?" He asked as he stuffed his face with the "nastiest shit."

"Get away with what?"

He rolled his eyes. "You get away with seeing his daughter. I've been here for a while, so I was familiar with her before you got here."