Monster.

Chapter Twenty Two

I instantly know who it is and with that recognition came with the confusion of the decision whether to remove myself from Charlie’s arms and go after him, or stay where I am. I’m contemplating this when Charlie makes my decision for me. He nuzzles the top of my head one last time, pressing a light kiss to my forehead before getting out of the bed, turning just as he reaches the door and stares at me with his pale eyes, a small smile tracing his lips, before walking out into the hall, closing the barrier behind him. I sit up, staring blankly ahead for a moment, unsure of what to do now. I finally crawl out of bed, a slight airy feeling on the tips of toes, making me feel almost like I was floating. I run my fingers through my extremely knotted hair, patting down the flying hair. I open the door as soundlessly as I can, tiptoeing out into the hall. I round the corner, instantly hit by yelling that was trying to stay quiet. One voice was exasperated and defensive, the other angry, both coming from the kitchen. I listen closely to the voices slightly muffled by the door that separated us. They were slowly getting raised every second, until it was practically screaming. I could hear every word and it all confused me; nothing made sense. I continued to listen.
 
“Was she good?”
“Excuse me?”
“Was the bitch good? You obviously fucked.”
“We didn’t fuck. I would never do that to her.”
“Yeah fucking right. It’s been obvious from day one that you two were fucking the living shit out of each other every second. You think I didn’t notice you sneaking into her room?! I’m not fucking stupid.”
“Are you serious?! I’m close with her, okay? That’s it! Nothing is going on between us. And why the hell are you getting so worked up over this?”
“I’m not fucking getting worked up!!”
“Then why are you raising your voice?”
“Because you’re a fucking manwhore!”
“Oh, I’m the manwhore? I’m sorry that I don’t sleep with a hundred different sluts a month.”
“But you get fucked a hundred times a month by that slut.” I heard a sigh, obviously coming from Charlie, before the kitchen door swings open. My eyes widen and I dive behind the corner, hoping I wouldn’t be seen. Thankfully, Charlie went a different way, probably going to the small backyard I had noticed earlier to cool off. I took this as my chance. I step into the kitchen, opening the door lightly, keeping my face blank. I pretend I’m surprised to see Niall, though it isn’t that hard to because I’m genuinely shocked. His face is red and his teeth are clenched, his hands in fists. His back is towards me and one hand is gripping the counter so tightly that the skin is white. I’m about to leave, but I’m stopped by him turning around. His blue eyes are blazing and dark, obvious anger in them. The dark color of them is what frightens me, but that same little word in my head repeats, not allowing me to back down. When his eyes catch mine, I see that he gets angrier. I don’t look away from the gaze, something inside not letting me break the glare. His jaw tightens even harder, which I hadn’t originally possible.
 
“So the whore decided to come back to the kitchen where she belongs?” He sneers. I resist the temptation to roll my eyes at his sexist joke, standing there silently. I do, though, allow my obvious distaste shine through. His face morphs into a smirk as he thinks about what he’s going to say next.
 
“You had fun with your boy-toy last night, didn’t you? I heard you screaming.” I mentally cringe at his words, ashamed that the screams of terror from the nightmare had been so loud. When Niall takes in my calm and not amused exterior, his face hardens for a moment before returning to his cocky façade. He opens his mouth to say something else, but something takes over me. I put my hand up as if to tell someone to stop, glaring straight into his eyes as I say my next words.
 
“I’m going to politely ask you to shut the fuck up.” I say with a smile. He instantly tenses and his back arches slightly in the way dogs do when they’re angry. Niall menacingly takes a step towards me, his eyes a darker color than I remember. The change of color shade instantly takes me back to when I first, I guess you can say, met him. I go rigid in fear, wishing that I could take the words I just uttered back. The smile falls from my face and I try to stop my eyes from widening in fear. He keeps taking steps forward until we are practically nose to nose, like Charlie and I had been hours ago, except this wasn’t Charlie and I didn’t feel anything in my stomach but fear. I hold back the shaking that wanted to go through my body, forcing myself to not be weak. Quick as a flash, his hand goes out to grip my hair, pulling it back hard, so that my face was nearly parallel with the ceiling. I bite my lip to stop from crying out, my eyes squeezing together for a fraction of a second. He doesn’t remove his hand, twisting my hair around his hand in a way that ensures any movement from me will pull it even harder. His nose is mere millimeters from mine, his hot breathing blowing into my face. It reminded me of Charlie and me even more, but it was also completely different.
 
“What did you just say?” He growls, practically spitting into my face. I stay silent, knowing that if I say anything, it will anger him. But, apparently, not saying anything has the same effect. His grip on my hair tightens extremely and his remaining hand wraps around my arm, squeezing hard. With a sharp intake of breath, pain fills both my head and my arm. From what I cold see with my leaning head, his eyes were nearly the same navy they had been in the abandoned school, and I knew there was no way I was going to get out of this. All I could hope for was a savior of some kind.
 
“Speak the fuck up.” He demands, saying it lowly. I still don’t saying anything, unsure of what I could even say without pissing him off. There was ‘I’m sorry’, but he would probably make it backfire on me. I stayed silent, still not knowing what to respond with. And, of course, this makes him even madder. Again, he yanks on my hair and his hand suddenly becomes like a bear trap, gripping my arm like as if he let go, he’d die. His short nails felt like crescent moons being branded into my forearm. He yelled again about me not speaking, and that’s when I finally choked something out.
 
“Stop.” I whisper, pain etched into my words. The last time I had spoken these words, he had come to his senses, but this time it did nothing but make him even angrier. I didn’t see it come until the second of the impact, the stinging sensation that it left on my cheek bringing me away from the pain in my scalp and arm and onto that. My other hand instinctively goes to my cheek. I feel the throbbing of it on the pads of my fingers. I couldn’t tell if I had let out any noises when I was slapped; the shock had made everything go white and blank for a second. Instantaneously, his hand was back around the same spot it had been on my arm. When I finally was able to look back into his eyes, I saw no regret; only blind anger. This was the first time he had hurt me without apologizing or getting cut off. And, I knew, this wasn’t the last time it was going to happen, no matter how much I hoped it would be.
 
“Get the hell away from me, you piece of shit.” He spits out, yanking my hair one last time for emphasis, before letting go, roughly pushing me away. I stumble back, a hand still on my cheek, utterly stunned. I numbly walked out of the kitchen, paying no attention to my surroundings, and walked up the stairs and to my room. Fear suddenly breaches over me and I locked the door as fast as I could, ignoring the fact that I knew either one of the boys inhabiting the house could kick it down if they needed to. I crawled onto my bed, curling up under the covers as if they could protect me from everything. I was more blank and empty from shock and slightly terror. Every other time Niall had hurt me, it had been an accident. I had moved on from that, because I accepted that he didn’t originally mean to hurt me that badly. Sure, he had raised his fist or something to hit me, but he had never gone through with it. This was the first time he had ever done something purposely, without any regret or apologizes after. And the look in his eyes; that’s probably what terrified me the most. Somehow, his eyes were the darkest color of blue I had ever seen, and the anger and, almost, predator-like look in the depths of them. He knew what he was doing the whole time; he knew he was hurting me.
 
I could still feel the thumping of the throb on my cheek. I was oblivious to the rest of the world, just staying in small cocoon of blankets, staring straight ahead emotionlessly. I was practically traumatized from it. I wasn’t exactly sure what about it had horrified me so much; many people went through it every day and I had been slapped before. It wasn’t like it was a beating that left me bruised and bleeding on the floor. I don’t know why, but I had almost thought that Niall had sort of changed in a way. Ever since Charlie’s first supposed death, he seemed softer and more caring; we had those moments where it felt like he was actually… human. The holding, the tears, the gripping onto each other for dear life, it had all happened and I had seen a side of Niall that I never thought was possible. And I kind of missed that Niall, no matter how short of a time he had stayed. But, now every ounce of care I had for him almost seemed to drain away, the aggressive Niall appearing even worse than normal. Right now, I could hardly imagine Niall ever being kind. And the voice in my head was having a field day, making everything I felt about Niall even worse.
 
‘You deserved it, you know that right? You provoked him. You were a bitch to him and he had every damn right to slap you. You’re an ungrateful little slut who goes off and practically takes his own best friend away from him. He gave you a home, he saved you from the streets, yet you dare to disrespect him like that? You fucking deserved the smack. And you deserve a thousand more until your face is so red and swollen you can barely recognize that that thing had ever been a girl.’ I was so used to believing it, but at the same time, I thought it was wrong. I was stuck in between of what was right and wrong. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut and maybe I deserved it. But, he was calling me those things and hurting me. I wasn’t exactly sure what I should think and that made my head ache even more. The combined hair pulling, mind attacking, and over thinking made my head pound as if someone had taken drum sticks to it.
 
I was so into my mental war that the yelling and violent knocking outside the door was just a muffled sound that I ignored. I was just absolutely lost inside my own mind and nothing else mattered but my thoughts. As the voice continued to taunt me and my thoughts continued to run wild, it was a constant battle of which one was heard more and everything just seemed to get louder and louder with every new word that popped into my head. I was unaware that I was curled so tight in a ball that my face was pressed into my knees and that I was pulling at my hair and gripping my scalp. Low sobs were heard from me, but they were the kind of sobs that had no tears; just heaving gasps of breath. I couldn’t even feel the sting of the now red mark. Images and thoughts of Niall broke its way through and made my head spin even more, and they were soon joined by the nightmare and the slap and Charlie and the fire and every single little thing that had happened. By now a few tears of pain had slipped through my clenched eyes and I was shaking harder than I thought possible. I knew that unconsciousness would hit soon and that if it didn’t, I’d probably end up going insane.
 
That is, if I’m not already.
 
When I finally come back to my surroundings, I realize I’m being lifted into someone’s arms. They pull my hands away from my head, forcing them to curl up against my chest. My head is rested on someone’s shoulder and neck, the rest of my body either leaning against the person’s torso or sitting in their lap. Soothing words were murmured and slow motions were made into my hair and back. The thoughts eventually started to slow, my head gradually stopped hurting, and soon all there was were a few left over tears and tiny trains of thought. I dug my head into the person’s neck, letting their voice calm me. They gently rocked back and forth on my bed, imitating the movements of a boat rocking on a wave.
 
My hands unclench, but then reach for their shirt, and make my hands fists around the fabric, so that I was holding on tightly to it. I felt that if I didn’t hold on, I’d fall into a dark abyss. When I finally got the strength to lift my head up, who I saw wasn’t what I expected. It was Niall. I was about to scream, but when I blinked Niall was gone and replaced with Charlie. I close my mouth, confused. I close my eyes and open them again, but it was still Charlie. The pale blue eyes were looking at mine, before they avert to my cheek. His eyes widen and one hand leaves the cradle that held me and went to gently brush against it. I flinch back slightly; the great pain even the small touch had administered instinctively made me move away. He pulls his hand away and sets itself back where it had been moments ago.
 
“Niall?” He whispers sorrowfully. All I do is nod, biting my lip. He sighs deeply, before holding me closer. I let the touch take everything away. And there we are, back where we were last night, curled up around each other. The flutters were still there every time I was somehow reminded that his arms were around me. I wasn’t sure if this is what best friends did, but I honestly didn’t care.
 
This was the second time he saved me from myself. And I couldn’t be more grateful for that. I suddenly get the urge I had gotten at the hospital multiple times. I gently lean up and press a quick kiss to his cheek.
 
“Thank you.” I mumble, hoping that he could hear all the emotions that I had put into those two words. I could feel his body momentarily tense up in surprise and confusion.
 
“For what?” He murmurs curiously, lifting his head up and pressing his chin against the top of my head, so that I’m directly under his jaw, my face lightly nuzzles against his neck.
 
“Everything.” Is all I whisper. He doesn’t ask anything else and we are again plunged into the gentle silence that we had been in the night before and I couldn’t but feel a déjà vu feeling as our bodies are cuddled together. I couldn’t say that I didn’t enjoy it; it was probably one of the best feelings I had ever had. But, I almost felt like I shouldn’t be doing this; that it was somehow wrong, even though there was nothing bad about it.
 
And as we lay, I take a peek over his shoulder, realizing that he had gotten in when the door was locked. It was slightly hanging off the hinges and I instantly knew that he somehow broke it open. I tried to hold back the smile I got, but to no avail. He had actually rammed open a door just to get to where I was.
 
My mind wanders every which way, but not nearly as violently as it had before. I thought of my new life and how I wouldn’t be on the streets anymore. I thought of Charlie and how many times I was sure I had lost him. But, strangely, I mostly thought of Niall. I thought of the way he hit me and nearly killed me. But I also thought of the way he held me in the hospital and outside the ambulances. I thought of how blue his eyes were and the tattoos that graced his arms. I thought of the way how he had gotten Charlie to save me when I was left with the shooter and how he had helped me get away from the men in the flat.
 
And as hard as I tried to stop, as violently as I told myself that he had hurt me and that he was a horrible person, as quickly as I tried to think of other things, I couldn’t. He reappeared over and over again, and that scared me. The only other people who that had ever happened with were my family and Charlie. And I cared about all of those people.
 
And even though I finally forced myself to move onto other topics, the last thing that lingered in my mind was the quick flash of joy I had when I had thought I’d seen Niall holding me. The small, fraction of a second feeling of pleasant surprise that I had felt before I went to scream.