Treacherous (Niall Horan)

I'm Okay

---Niall's POV---

It's been 3 hours sense Cheyenne left. I haven't heard a word from her. What if James did something? What if he took her phone away? What if her phone lost power? What if-
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I take it out, Cheyenne's name and picture flashes on my screen.
"Hello? Cheyenne? Are you okay?"
"Niall." Her voice is quiet. "Calm down. I'm okay. I'm in the bathroom."
"Are you okay? Why are you talking quietly?"
"I'm okay. I snuck away from James to call you, but he doesn't know it. He thinks I'm going pee or whatever. I just wanted to say I love you."
"I love you too. Do you want me to come get you?" She giggles a little.
"No. I'm okay Niall. I think I can survive tonight. I'll see you tomorrow. Okay?" I sigh.
"Okay."
"I love you Niall."
"I love you too Cheyenne."
"I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay."
"Bye."
"Bye."
Ugh. Maybe I should drive by or something? No, she'll get mad. I'm just gonna go watch TV.... Take my mind off of James...... God I fucking hate him.
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My phone rings, waking me up. I groan and look at it. It's Brooklyn. Greaaaat.
"Hello?" I say, closing my eyes.
"How are you holding up?" She says in a sarcastic tone.
"Fine. Just fine."
"Good. Well, bye."
I hang up. Bitch. God I fucking hate-
My phone rings again. God damn woman.
"What?" I say.
"Niall!" I sit up.
"Cheyenne?"
"Niall!"
"Cheyenne! What's wrong?!" I hear struggling in the background, and shouts from Cheyenne. "Fuck. Cheyenne, I'm coming!"
I keep the phone to my ear and grab my keys. I hear Cheyenne crying. Then, the line goes dead. Damn it. I try calling again, but no one picks up. I get into my car and drive to James's house. As I'm driving, I call the cops and tell them what's going on. The dispatcher said that they'll meet me there.
When I get to James's house, the police have just arrived also.
"Please stay in here while we go in." One officer says.
"Not over my dead body."
"Sir. Please. We highly-"
"Over. My. Dead. Body. Will I sit out here while some sicko has my fucking girlfriend in his house while I have no clue what he has done to her!"
The officer looks at me for a second, then sighs and says, "Okay. But stay behind me."
We, meaning about 4 officers and myself, go up to the front door, knock, an officer yells, "This is the police! Open up!" But there's no answer. Another officer says, "We will be forced to break down the door if you do not open it!" Still, no reply. Another officer proceeds to kick open the door. They enter first, me following, and clear the rooms.
Glass covers the floor along with some blood. Picture frames and vases that once contained flowers are scattered across tables and the floor. We make our way into the living room. On the couch, glass and Cheyenne's phone and her purse. I walk up to her stuff and pick it up.
"Sir. Please don't touch anything. This is a crime scene." An officer says.
I place her stuff down and look around.
"Cheyenne!" I shout. No response. The only noise is the officers yelling "Clear!" when a room is empty.
"In here!" An officer yells from the kitchen. I run in, along with an officer, to find Cheyenne covered in glass and blood. The officer kneels down and checks her pulse. "She's alive."
I run over to her and kneel down.
"Baby. Cheyenne. Wake up baby. Wake up." I say. "Cheyenne. Wake up. God. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry Cheyenne. Please. Don't leave me. I need you."
An officer walks in and tells the others that no one else is in the house. One calls for back-up and an ambulance. I sit on the floor, holding Cheyenne close, wiping the blood off her face and her hair away from her face.
Her eyes flutter, but remain closed. She sort of opens her mouth, her voice is hoarse.
"Baby. Shh. You're okay. You're okay." I say.
"I'm sorry..." She whispers.
That's all she says before she slips back into unconsciousness.