Dear Annie,

Chapter 4

I cried while writing this! I was like, 'Awh, Niall!' the entire time I wrote it! I feel so mean, hahah xD

Enjoy, loves.

Simmi xx

Dear Annie,

Chapter 4

Harry would just keep shaking his head, tearing up even.

“I’m so sorry, mate, I’m so sorry. Niall, I’m so sorry,” he’d keep saying. “It’s all my fault. I told her to drive, I’m the one who made her believe that it’s okay to talk while driving. I’m so, so, sorry.”

Every time he’d say he’s sorry, I’d start crying.

Annie had no idea who on earth I was.

She didn’t remember me. She didn’t remember our letters, the case, the vacation trip. She didn’t remember my birthday last year, she didn’t remember her birthday two years ago, she didn’t remember our first fight, and she didn’t remember who she was in the face of fame.

The only thing she remembered was Natasha.

When she walked out, she gave me the most pitying look, hugging me tight. “I’m so sorry, Niall.”

I patted her shoulder.

Why won’t she remember me?

I slowly pushed the door open, when they all stood back and let me face her again.

She looked up at me, her hazel orbs wide and blank. “Who are you?” she asked.

It stung, real hard. It was like another cut on an open wound.

The doctor said that we could take her home again, but that we couldn’t just tell her everything in one go. It would be too big a blow.

And that meant that I couldn’t even tell my own girlfriend that she was mine.

It pained me. A lot.

“Hi,” I uneasily said. “I’m Niall. Niall Horan.”

“I don’t know you,” she said, sitting up straight, wincing a bit.

I bit my lip, looking away so as not to start tearing up again. “I know,” I told her. “You know your name, don’t you?”

She nodded. “Annie. Annie Moore.”

“You know how old you are, too, right?”

“17,” she said. “My birthday’s in three months.”

I blinked and stared at her. “Annie, you’re twenty. You’re twenty first birthday is next month.”

She tilted her head, confused. “No, I’m seventeen,” she said, shaking her head. “You must be confused.”

“Annie, it’s 2014. You’re twenty years old,” I firmly told her, grasping her shoulders.

She stared up at me, her eyebrows furrowing. “Oh,” she simply said. “Are you sure?” I nodded. “Who are you?” she repeated.

I gave her a confused look. “I told you. I’m-”

She shook her head. “No. I mean, who are you to me? Do you know me?”

I bit my lip again. “Erm. Yes. Yeah. You can say I do.” When I didn’t keep talking, she ushered me to go on. God, what was I supposed to tell her, now?

She still needs to know that she’s famous, that we’re famous. That we’re together, and that the press is going to go nuts.

Where am I supposed to even start?

“We’re friends,” I told her. “Recent friends. We…we uh, became friends just after your eighteenth birthday.”

I didn’t expect this to hurt so much. I didn’t want it to hurt so much.

She only nodded her head, though. “Okay,” she said, turning over on her side. “I like you. You’re nice,” she went on. I gave her a warm smile.

“Thanks.”

All I wanted, then, was to leave. I couldn’t take it anymore. Not having Annie know who I was, was the worst pain I’d ever felt in my life.

What did I do wrong to deserve that?

“I’ll let you sleep, Annie,” I told her. “You look tired.”

She nodded, giving off a weak smile. “Alright.”

I quietly shut the door, and blew out a breath I’d been holding in. They all looked up at me, waiting for something out of my mouth.

“I just want to curl up on the floor and cry,” I croaked, doing just that.

Liam and Zayn came and sat down on either side of me, sighing. “What did you say?” Liam asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I told her that…that…I’m her friend. And she thinks she’s seventeen, turning eighteen in three months. I told her she’s turning twenty one next month.”

Natasha looked so torn. So I stood up and gave her a little hug. I felt her hot tears on the back of my shirt.

“We can get through this,” she kept saying. “Don’t worry,” she’d assure. “She’ll remember, I know she will.”

I nodded. “I know,” I said. “It just hurts so much.”

That’s when I noticed the doctor walking up to us, a clipboard in hand, flipping through the pages as he walked closer.

I broke out of her hold and ran right up to him. “Will she remember everything?”

He put a hand on my back, walking me back to the guys and Natasha. “Good news first or bad news?”

We looked at each other. “Good,” I firmly stated.

“Okay, the good news is,” he said, looking at each of us, “that Ms. Moore will be able to regain the memories she’s lost. The bad news is that we’ve no idea how long it should take. Try to help her remember with re-enactments or repeating the same important words one of you had once said in a moment. They usually help regain one’s memory loss.”

We nodded.

I could do this. We could do this. Annie will remember.

She has to. I don’t know what I would do if she doesn’t.