Undercover (Larry Stylinson)

20. unveiling all

"It was day 30 in the prison. Well, warehouse. But really it was prison. We only knew because Adams was keeping track. He, um, didn't end up making it," Niall began.

Harry sat and listened, his heart feeling heavy as he observed how much pain his friend was in, his head down, his shoulders tense. Niall had asked him to come along to his therapy session. One, because he needed the support. And two, because he didn't think he would ever be able to repeat these things again. And he wanted Harry to know what really happened.

"I um... that's the first and only time they injured me. I was always in the back of the pack, coupled with the Salucci twins. It was hard to reach me, and I kinda looked like them so I blended in... But that day, they were beating Collins and I just couldn't take it... we hadn't had food in a week. I was losing my mind. I kind of just screamed out something. Probably telling the Russian to stop."

Niall closed his eyes, taking a deep breath for a minute. Harry reached over and patted him on the back, encouragingly.

"He immediately grabbed me and pulled me into the center of the room. I was with chains on my wrists so and ankles so I couldn't move. And he slashed my arm with his switch blade.... It hurt so much."

Harry cringed, imagining that kind of unbearable pain.

"Didn't want it to get infected. So we found an old bottle of vodka and poured that on there," he continued. "Hurt like a bitch but saved me life."

The therapist nodded, finally looking up from her array of notes in her notebook. "That sounds so difficult, Mr. Horan. Anything else you want to share? It's best we get all your trauma out on the table."

"I, um, yeah," Niall said shyly. "I just... I saw so much. We're all fucked up. I blame most of it on the abuse. But I also blame it on the malnutrition. I was barely 100 pounds when they found me...."

Harry's eyes widened and he felt a tear drip down his cheek. He turned so Niall wouldn't see it. This wasn't his story to cry over.

"And how did that affect you?"

"How did it affect me?" Niall started at her. "I mean, as you could imagine I was weak, lightheaded. Paranoid. I had the shakes. Barely getting food or water takes a toll. My first week back here I could barely hold anything down. My body was starting to reject food... I... it's so painful. I don't know if I can get better again."

"Better?"

"Yeah," Niall nodded. "Better, Like back to the way I was. I don't think..." His voice cracked and he was starting to cry a bit now. "I don't think I'll ever be normal again."

"It's okay. No one is normal. You may not be the same, but you can get to a place where your symptoms are manageable. How does that sound?"

"I just want... I just wish this never happened," Niall sobbed into his hands. "I'm so skinny and disgusting now and I have breakdowns every day over nothing. I can't hold a job, I can't sleep, I can't eat. I hate it. I hate all of it, I'm ruined."

Harry was crying too now. He tried not to, but he couldn't help it. The tears were flowing and his sobs were growing progressively louder. "It's my fault, I'm sorry," he choked.

Niall turned to Harry, wiping his eyes. "It's not your fault."

"But if It wasn't for me... if I had stayed..." Harry whimpered.

"If you had stayed You would have fucking suffered with me and no one would have gotten out. You're the one who bloody saved us," Niall snapped.

"I know but... it's my fault for getting us captured..." Harry stammered.