Haunted Love

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I obviously don't know One Direction. I don’t own Niall Horan or Lucy Hale. I don’t mean to cause harm, confusion or headaches. If any of the boys or  in this story or Lucy would like to discuss future works, you know how to get in touch with me. Also, please don’t sue me…I don’t do well in jail and I have no money. Void where prohibited.

   You know that feeling you get when you wake up in the morning feeling sick, but know you have to go to school anyways? That's how I feel right now as I'm standing in front of my new home. It's not that Ireland is a bad place to live, certainly not. It's the fact that my mom decided to pack up and whisk me off to a foreign country to leave behind the only home I've ever known. Chicago was my home this place, will never be home.

   "You know Samantha, you could at least help take your boxes upstairs." My mom says. I get up off the couch and glare at her "Why are you so irritated?" She just laughs. "Maybe it's the fact that you don't care enough to help around. I'm simply a maid." This is where I say the comeback I've been using since 3 am. "Well, we both know this unpacking thing wouldn't be a problem if you hadn't made me move here without my consent." With that snarky and clever comment, I take my boxes upstairs. "Happy now?" I call down as I make my way up the padded stairs. This isn't my home, but this carpet is like sand. It's unbelievable.

   Twenty boxes, 4 band aids, and two naps later my room is ready. The home seems old, but modern at the same time. Most certainly cozy. From the slick black tiles in the shower to the 3 inch thick plush carpet that pads my feet throughout the house. It's not the actual house that I hate.

   "Samantha!" The soft voice I know so well calls up. I don't exactly want to get up. I go downstairs anyways to see what my mom needs in the kitchen.

   "Chinese or Pizza?" She asks sliding the pamphlets across the granite table top. I study the Chinese one and finally decide its the way to go. "I'll have my usual. But I'm gonna go get comfy first." So I run up the stairs back to my room.

   It takes awhile to locate my things but I finally find gray sweatpants and a black hoodie. While I'm putting my hair in a messy bun I hear creaking from the attic. I try to ignore it, but I'm kind of a scaredy cat. I hold my breath waiting for more eerie noises. Nothing comes. "You're probably just being paranoid." I mumble to myself. Still, I start running down the stairs at full speed. Not a good decision in socks. By step 7 I'm bopping down the stairs on my butt. Oh well.

   The food shows up and I shove my General Taos and noodles in my mouth. Mom stares at me and smiles "How ladylike of my dear daughter Samantha." So naturally, I put my face into my bowl and suck up noodles one by one. I hear more creaking and my stomach drops. The knot in my throat makes me choke on my noodles. "Are you ok?" My mom asks. She rushes over and pats me on the back. "Here," she says "take a drink." "Thanks." I hug her after I'm finally capable of breathing again. I finish my food and kiss her goodnight.

   "Oh, Sam. I forgot to ask if you could put these boxes away for me." Mom points to the last of the boxes. I follow the imaginary line from her fingertip to the boxes. To my horror, the word scrawled on the side of them is 'Attic'. "S-sure Mom." I stutter picking up the boxes. "Thanks sweetie." She kisses my head. Then I warily make my way to the third floor.

   I take a deep breath standing in front if the door to the dreaded room. After gathering enough courage, I go in and set the boxes down. I turn on the light. There's a bed, and the sheets are made. A small tv is in the corner and there seems to be a tank top on the floor. Never mind, it's Calvin Klein underwear. I smell a musky yet nice scent. I'd have to guess a guy lived here or something. Something tells me to get out of here. Following my gut, I run out.

   All night long I'm tossing and turning listening to strange noises coming from the vent. It sounds like someone is singing. Perhaps I'm simply crazy. Yeah. That's it, I'm crazy.