Stole My Heart

Chapter Six: Earthquake

(A/N: I got really good feedback on my last chapter, so I really hope you all like this one. Warnings: Same warnings apply as the last chapter. This chapter has some very sensitive subject in it as well, so be ready for them. Thanks for reading!)

I woke up two days later. I looked at my clock, seeing that it said it was 4:30 am, Monday morning. There was barely enough light from the window to make out the figures in the room. My mum was asleep in a chair in the corner of my room. She had deep, purple circles underneath her eyes, and her hair looked severely unkept. She looked exhausted, even while sleeping. I could hear my father snoring in the room across the hall. It was then that I realized I was in my bed. I recalled what had happened to land me here. I'm sure I had woken up a few hours after my panic attack, but those memories would all be trauma-blocked. "Mum?" I called out quietly, barely a whisper. She stirred a bit, but didn't open her eyes. I shakily stood up from my bed, almost losing my balance the minute I stretched out. I threw on some sweats and a sweatshirt, grabbed my phone, and slowly tip-toed out of the room. Heading for the kitchen, I still had a sense of paranoia and anxiety, but the hunger paining my stomach was much stronger at the moment. Making my way over to the fridge, I nearly screamed at the sight of my brother asleep on the couch, looking almost as raggedy as mum. I recovered quickly, still starved and wanting food as quickly as possible. I opened cabinets grabbing just about anything I could, setting out the contents in my hand on the counter. Peanut butter, crackers, raisins, crisps, and some kind of dip. "Well.. I suppose that will do," I muttered.

I grabbed a spoon from the drawer and my newfound meal, and went to go sit on the patio. It was cold outside, something to be expected at 4:30 in the morning. The morning sun was still hidden, and the frost nipped at my toes. I set out my food in the spot next to me on our patio couch, reaching for the peanut butter first.

I sucked on my spoonful of peanut butter for a few minutes before I remembered my phone. Snatching it from my sweatshirt pocket, I noticed I had 6 unread text messages.

From: Niall 1:25am

Date: Saturday, December 14th

I miss you already. xx

From: Niall 9:56am

Date: Saturday, December 14th

good morning babe. :) x

From: Niall 1:23pm

Date: Saturday, December 14th

hey so I know it's a bit last minute but do you wanna grab a cinema later maybe?

From: Niall 7:56pm

Date: Saturday, December 14th

Are you mad at me Marie?

I stopped reading. There were still two more texts, but they were from a friend back home; getting back to her was the last thing on my mind. I could /feel/ how hurt he was through the text messages. He thought I was mad at him for some unknown reason, that I didn't want to see him again, but it wasn't like that at all. But I couldn't just tell him I had a panic attack and that it was so bad I had practically slept for two days straight. If I told him, he'd ask me if I had had others, and then before I would know it, my whole story would spill out and he would leave. I had only known him for a week, but it didn't matter. He was important. It was ridiculous, really. To not know someone and then suddenly they seem to be the reason for breathing air; I mean, I'm not there yet, but I could tell its where I was headed.

Pulling my knees into my chest, and burying my head there, I quietly began to cry. Everything was breaking down-already. I had a decision to make. I could push him away, or I could tear down my walls and let him in.