Stockholm Syndrome |n.h

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(WARNING This chapter has detailed description about cutting. Please skip if this might be a trigger to you.)

I throw the blankets off of me and head for the bedroom door. I open it slightly, poking my head out, and looking to see if Niall had come down yet. The coast is clear, so I slowly make my way to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I lock it and look at myself in the mirror.

My eyes are red and I just look so tired. I'm exhausted. I want to sleep but when I try, either Niall or Alex pops up in my head and I don't want to see either of those people.

I miss Alex terribly and I can only imagine what he is going through right now. And you can probably guess why I don't wanna see Niall.

I shake off these thoughts and start looking through the cabinets in the bathroom until I find what I'm looking for. Niall has razors. He lives upstairs, so I wonder why he has them down here but I don't really care. I take it apart carefully before taking a single blade in between my fingers.

"Now that I have you, I'm not going to let you go." His words play in my head like I'm listening to them now. My hands are shaky as I bring the small blade up to my wrist. I scratch, just enough to make a red mark. It doesn't hurt much. "I'm not going to let you go." His words hurt more than the cuts on my wrist ever will.

I take the blade over the same spot on my wrist over and over again until the I can see red. As I spot it, a tear falls from my face, landing on the blood, washing it away.

I want Niall to see the pain he is putting me trough. I am not hurting myself. This is Niall.

I scratch at it again and again with the blade and before I know it, my hand is dripping with the blood of my arm.

I feel bad in a way. I made a promise to Alex that I would never pick up a blade again. I promised.

But Niall has to see that he is hurting me. He has to know what he is doing to me! I'm going crazy being stuck in this tiny stupid little basement!

It isn't long until I hear the footsteps
On the creeping stairs. "Evanna?" Its Harry. "Ev, where are you?" he opens the door to the bedroom before stepping in front of the bathroom and knocks lightly. "Are you okay?"

"No." I answer, my voice shaking. Im telling the truth. I am most definitely not okay.

"Can I come in?" I stay quiet as I watch the blood run from my arm, to my palm, the tip of my finger and dripping onto the floor. "Evanna." His voice is something of a warning but I am too interested in the sight before me to care. It's been a while since I cut. "Evanna! What are you doing?!" he sounds more urgent but I am in my own world of swirling red to even acknowledge his presence.

The darkness of my own blood, the cut where it's oozing out, a lot more satisfying than it was a few years ago. "Evanna!!" he knocks on the door, more like pounds, and this is when I finally divert my attention to the door.

He is going to find me. He is going to come in here and take the blade away. He is going to take me to Niall and Niall will make sure I never step foot in this bathroom again.

I rush to pick the blade back up, making multiple cuts up and down my arm, hoping I will lose enough blood to have to be taken to the hospital. Niall can't lie about my medical records. The police have my DNA, my picture. I could go home. And if it means harming myself, then I'll damn well do it.

"Evanna open the door!" Harry keeps pounding on the door, and soon enough he is kicking it. It doesn't take long for the door to slam off the hinges and swing open. "Evanna oh my god." Harry rushes towards me, taking the blade out of my hand, hoping that that was the only one. In a normal shaving razor, there are four to five blades. Good thing I put three in my pocket.