The Broken Boy

Chapter 3

Chapter 3
Dropping to the ground and shuffling backwards until my back hit the wall; I clung onto my legs, rocking myself back and forth.
"No. Not again, please not again. It's the third time this week, dad, please." I pleaded.
"Niall?" A familiar voice cut through my terror, causing me to freeze.
"L-Liam?" I asked quietly.
"Niall? You okay?" He asked me uncertainly.
"Uh. Yeah." I said awkwardly standing up.
"Don't lie. I know when you're lying. Tell me what the hell that was!" He said loudly, causing me to flinch. I’m scared of yelling.
"Sorry." his voice softened after he saw the fear flicker through my eyes.
"It's fine. If you have to know, can we not talk here?" I asked, looking around.
"Yeah. You want some help carrying the groceries?" He asked. I nodded, handing him a bag.
I have to explain this now.
After we unpacked the groceries, we went into the living room. He sat down next to me, every time either of us shifted, our legs brushed. It sent bolts of electricity down my leg.
"Explain." He said softly after about five minutes of silence. I took a deep breath.
"I really don't know how to explain." I said.
"Well then tell me why you freaked out when I touched you." He suggested.
"It brought back memories." I whispered.
"Memories of what?" He prompted.
"My dad."
"What did your dad do?" I sighed. He's not going to let this go.
"When I was a kid everything was fine. We were a big happy family and it was perfect. When I came out, yes. Shocker! I'm gay. When I came out when I was eleven, everything changed. It started out that my dad would get angry with me and he'd hit me. It wasn't anything bad, but he'd leave a bruise.
It escalated until he was beating me for no reason. He beat me several times a week." By this time I was crying. Liam shifted closer to me and he put an arm around me. I tensed at first, but when I realized he wasn't going to hurt me, I turned and cried into his chest.
"Shhh." He cooed. "You didn't deserve any of that."

Liam's POV
This is horrible. How could a parent even do this to their child?
"By the time I turned sixteen, I had been hospitalized three times, and beaten senseless countless times.”
“I uh. Look. I can't say." I looked down at him as he tugged off his pants and pulled off his shirt. He turned around and started taking his bracelets off. When he turned around, I gasped at the sight.
There were hundreds of angry red marks scratched into his skin. I took my hand and gripped his hips, rubbing my thumb over the scars on his ribs and hips. He pulled up on his boxers and I saw more hidden marks. He showed me his wrists and I felt a tear slip from my eye.
"I turned to hurting myself." He whispered so quietly I almost missed it.
"Niall. You didn't deserve this." I said. I pulled him down onto my lap and he rested his head against my chest. I ran my fingers through his hair. It seemed to calm him down. I held my grip tight around his waist, as if he'd leave if I didn't.
"Do you need to get dressed? Your parents might be home soon." I said. He stiffened again.
"I uh. They don't live here." He stuttered.
"Where do they live?" I asked.
"Ireland." He whispered.
"Why?"
"I ran away." He said.
"What?!" I said, pulling back to look at him.
"I ran away from home." He said a bit louder.
"Why?!"
"Because my dad beat me, and drove me to harm myself!" He yelled at me through his tears.
"I'm sorry." He shook his head.
"Can you stay here with me tonight?" He asked.
"Sure. Let me tell my mum." I said. "Sorry." I apologized, not thinking when I said that.
"It's fine. Talking about your mom isn't going to upset me." He said.
"Okay. There. Sent. She said it was fine." I said, reading her reply.
"Okay. Come on." He said, leading me upstairs.
I trailed after him up the stairs, following him into his bedroom.
It was a typical teenager’s bedroom, covered in pictures of bands and pictures. There was a small chest of drawers and on the top stood one photo. It was of him and Harry and it looked like they were young.
"Hey. Is this Harry?" I asked him, pointing at the picture.
"Yeah. We were friends back in Ireland. He moved to London after his father died." He replied.
"How old were you guys?" I asked.
"That was maybe when we were fourteen or fifteen."
I looked closer at the picture. I could see the scars on his wrist. He started cutting this early and no one had found out.
"Does Harry know you cut?" I asked him.
"No. You are the only one in the world besides me that know about that. No one knows. I told Harry that he beat me, but never about how bad they got."
"Why didn't you tell him?"
"I didn't want him treating me or my family any differently."
"Well, you're not any different to me. Except now I know you uh...self harm." I said awkwardly.
"Yeah." He whispered.
"Come here." I said, lying back onto his bed.
He slowly crawled over to me, sitting about a foot away from me. I lied down and he copied me. We both lay down and I rolled over to face him. He rolled over and when we were both facing each other, I reached out and I put my hand on his cheek. I slowly slid my thumb over his cheek, caressing it. I froze, forgetting who this was.
"Uh. Sorry." I muttered. I retracted my hand and I couldn't help but notice that empty feeling in my chest when I pulled back. The palm of my hand felt like it was on fire and it was tingling from the lack of contact.
"It's fine." He whispered.
"What are you doing tomorrow?" I asked him.
"I don't know. Probably hanging out here. So much fun right?" He said sarcastically. "Wanna join me?" He said.
"Yeah sure." I said. He looked at me, cocking his head.
"That was sarcasm." He said dismissively.
"Oh." I felt my heart shatter.
"I mean, you can still come over if you want, but I meant the fun part was sarcasm." He said quickly.
"Okay. I'll be there. What time?"
"When we wake up I guess." He said, yawning.
"Yeah. I have a date in the evening with this girl I met, but I can stay here for a bit." I said. I watched as his face fell, then went right back to his smile, but not as wide.
He rolled over, facing the opposite way as me. I put my hand on his hips, stroking my thumb over the place his scars lay. I felt him tense, and relax when I started rubbing his hip. He let out a sigh and before long, I heard soft gentle snores coming from his perfect pink lips. I soon followed, drifting off into the darkness of dreams.

I awoke a while later, not really knowing what was going on. I remembered I was at Niall's, but I didn't know why I was up. After a little bit of just laying still, I heard a sniffle coming from the bathroom and light murmuring.
I quietly got out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. I slowly opened the door and found Niall there, sitting in a pool of blood.
"Niall?!" I screeched, hopping into action. I ran over to him, tossing the sharp knife away from him. I grabbed a washcloth and I started to lightly clean the blood off his body. I looked up at his face, seeing the paleness of it. My eyes roamed down his body, resting on his stomach. I didn't notice it last night, but his ribs were very prominent. He was thin. Very thin. Like, "He's sick." thin.
I called an ambulance when he didn't wake up, and, telling them the address, they said they'd be here in ten minutes.
"L-" I heard him mumble.
"What? Niall. Say that again." I prompted.
"Li-"
"What?"
"Liam!" He suddenly shrieked, causing me to flinch and fall back. "Help me! Don't let him hurt me again!" He yelled. He collapsed onto the floor, having been sitting against the wall, and started shaking violently. My first reaction was he was having a seizure.
"Hello? Emergency Medical Services?" A voice barked from downstairs.
"Up here! Hurry! Please!" I yelled.
They ran upstairs and got him on the stretcher. They took him in the ambulance and drove off with him.
I was panicking, running around Niall's house trying to figure out what just happened. I shook my head, clearing it, and went out of the house. I ran down the streets, on my way to the hospital.
I burst through the doors, flinching at the bright white lights in the building. I made my up to the desk.
"I'm here to see my friend. Niall Horan." I panted.
"Yes. He is in that room right over there." I thanked the nurse and walked to the room. I opened the door slowly and walking in, I gasped.
There was Niall. One of my best friends, lying in a hospital bed. He was pale as snow and he had dark circles under his eyes. He had been put into a thin pair of hospital pants and his stomach and chest were wrapped up. He was laying there completely out of it, probably not even aware that I was here. The worst thing was I could have stopped this. If I had just woken up a little bit earlier and had caught him cutting himself, we wouldn't be at the hospital at 4:37 in the morning.
"Sir?" A sweet voice behind me said.
"Hmmm?" I said, not looking away from Niall.
"Do you want to know what happened?" The nurse asked me. I faced her, nodding.
"Well, when he cut himself, he hit an artery, causing him to lose more blood than he could afford. Then, he passed out. Because of his eating disorder, he doesn't have the strength to wake himself up yet." She said quietly. Wait. What?!
"Eating disorder?" I said confused.
"Mr. Horan is anorexic."