Abused and Bullied (A One Direction Fanfiction)

Chapter 11

When I open my eyes, it's bright. The light from outside was shining between the curtains, directly lighting up my face. I reach my arm towards the nightstand and grab my phone, lifting it so I can properly see the screen. I press the home button, seeing the time flash up on the screen: 6:45 am.

I lean sideways, sitting up on the bed. Harry is still deep asleep on the other side of the bed, his arm curled up around the pillow his head is lying on. I stand up, groaning slightly as I feel my fresh bruises pull with my skin as I slide from the bed. My feet hit the cold wooden floor and I shiver, feeling the goosebumps travel up and down the length of my arms and legs.

I step out into the hallway, hearing something downstairs. I follow the path Harry and I had taken last night, down the stairs and past the living room, hearing the commotion coming from an adjacent room.

I walk into the room, which is seemingly a kitchen. Liam is standing at the stove, boiling a kettle of water with a tea mug in front of him. I slightly slide my feet on the floor to make some noise, letting Liam know that someone else is in the room. I smile softly at him, pulling the ends of Harry's hoodie down to cover my hands, smiling softly at him.

"Good morning," I say, stopping and leaning my hip against the cupboard.

"How'd you sleep?" Liam asks, opening a cabinet and grabbing another mug and tea bag, placing it by the other one.

"I slept good, thanks. Oh, and thank you for last night. I don't know what would've happened if you guys hadn't shown up."

Liam turns to look at me and I feel the pit of my stomach drop. There is a bruise on Liam's cheek that I definitely would've noticed earlier. I place my hand over my mouth, feeling my eyes go wide in shock. "Yeah, uh . . . your dad put up a bit of a fight while we were trying to get to you," Liam jokes, rubbing his hand over his stubble on his jaw.

Liam grabs the kettle as it starts to whistle and pours the boiling water into both of the mugs, grabbing the string from the tea bag and stirring them both.

"C'mon," Liam says, grabbing both mugs and walking past me.

I follow him, my eyebrows crinkled in worry. Liam leads me into the living room and sets both of the mugs down on the coffee table. He sits down on the far side of the couch, patting the middle cushion to his right. I sit down, turning so I can look at the bruise. 

I reach my hand up, and when Liam doesn't protest, I lightly press my thumb against it, letting the rest of my fingers lay on his cheek. I observe the small cuts on the bruise, clearly from the ring my dad wears on his finger. I feel the tears start to collect in my eyes, stinging in a threat to slide down my cheeks.

Most likely seeing the tears start to form in my eyes while I'm observing the bruise, Liam is quick to act. He wraps his arms around my torso and brings my head to his chest, holding me. I stifle down the sobs and hold in as many tears as I can, letting myself lay limp in his arms. 

Liam is laying somewhat diagonal on the couch, his back partly leaning on the arm-rest. My head lay between his right shoulder and chest, my feet curled up on the middle cushion behind me, part of my side laying on his lap.

We stay like this forever, or at least that's what it feels like. The boys wander in after a little while, seating themselves around us on the adjacent couches. Louis grabs the remote from the end table, turning it to a random channel, stopping when he sees an episode of Law and Order playing. We all watch the screen, everyone too much in a tired daze to say anything.