Louis knows he's insane. He does, he really knows that his brain doesn't belong to him anymore. It's not his, except for maybe that little tiny closet, way in the back, with the closed and locked, metal door. The little tiny part that's screaming at him all the time, telling him to stop, telling him there shouldn't be blood on his hands, telling him to leave while he still can. Except that's where the live part of him is wrong. He can't leave, he's stuck in the closet, screaming and dragging his nails across the pitch black room, trying to claw his way out of the tiny closet. But he's stuck, and he's not getting out. The battle inside his mind is quiet, it has been for a long time now. The soldiers have been sent back home, only a few line the outside of the closet, watching the door in case it slides open just a little. If it so much as clicks open, they're there right away to slam it shut again, leaning their complete weight against it until his screaming and crying calm down, and he returns to clawing against the dark walls. And on the outside, he keeps a calm, collected smile on his lips. But his eyes are wild. (WARNING: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. THIS WILL BE REALLY SCARY AND I'M PROBABLY GOING TO CRY AND PEE MY PANTS FROM WRITING IT, SO JUST LIKE... WATCH YOURSELF. IT'S SCARY, AND I'M SORRY.)

I entered a contest and this is my First Round Entry. Disclaimer to @orangesrule for the title/contest stuff and disclaimer to whoever on google images that put wings on Liam on the cover. ---------------------- (Description) Liam breaks his wings and has to get them fixed before anyone finds out. Along the way, he becomes closer to Harry and Niall, is reunited with Louis, and stares at Zayn a lot.

Michael doesn't know what he's just pulled out of his car, but that's alright. Because there's a boy at the garage that's absolutely drop dead gorgeous, and smiles more often than not and he's usually sweating through that ridiculous looking one piece that somehow makes him look even better looking. And Michael will probably get the chance to look at him like a complete creep for at least 20 minutes while he looks for the missing rope, or whatever the hell Michael's ripped out of the car's hood. And hope no one notices his drool.

My name is Niall. Niall Horan. And, though I look 'innocent' and 'cute', I'm not. I'm not very talented, the only thing I can really do is sing a bit and play guitar, not that anyone would know. I'm not very attractive, either, nor am I smart. The only thing I can do really well is lie. I've made a career out of it, had multiple relationships thanks to my hidden skill. But once, I went to far. I fell in too deep, a hole I couldn't dig myself out of. Once, I lied too many times and my entire life went up in flames. So, I guess, this is the autobiography of the time that happened, coming to you directly from the ally I live in. All because, around here, I have a reputation to uphold. Around here, I'm known as The Liar.

Liam Payne, convicted criminal, thrown into a jail cell for the umpteenth time for a crime he wasn't clever enough to get away. He's done it before, robbed stores of their precious merchandise and money, just for the thrill of it all. He's a rebel. Always has been and always will be. Niall Horan a scared little bloke, peer pressured by his so-called 'friends' to steal a couple CD's. Just a few CD's, that's all it took to get him arrested and thrown in jail. He's a good boy, always did his homework, got accepted into a terrific college, never back talked to anyone, but he's got enough sass in him to float a small island. And that's all he needs for Liam to get attached.

Dr. Green had said that, since I missed and depended on them so much, my mind recreated them to ease my stress. All they did was cause more stress, though. My dead best friends, they liked to cause me lots of stress, liked to be the source of my panic attacks. Louis, he always seemed to be the cause of them, Harry, he always seemed to come to help though we both knew he couldn't, Niall, he always was there after to give me a bit of a laugh, and Liam, who always checked to see if I was okay. I wanted them to leave, to just let me be so I could get out of this insane asylum, and die. To kill myself, so that I could actually be with them. To actually touch them. But they wouldn't go. It was like they knew my plan to kill myself, and made it their personal goals to stop me. They're dicks, all of them.

Michael smacked my shoulder. "You know Liam, for the world's greatest superhero, or whatever you are, you sure are jumpy." I couldn't even deny it, was the thing.

I stared at the girl in front of me, screams piercing my eardrums each time her pale pink lips spread. Her skin was losing it's color, the pink blotches draining from her cheeks. Her black hair was sleek with sweat, her dark green eyes squeezed shut in pain. Her mouth was wide open, another scream ripping through the air. Her wrists and ankles were strapped tightly to the wooden chair. "Enough," I said finally, tapping the older woman on the forehead. She stepped away from the younger female, her mouth dripping with blood. The two marks on the girl's neck were leaking blood, the red liquid smeared across her once clean throat. The other three young girls in the room, skin pale and eyes sparkling red, hooked up the three dark blue, almost black, bags to the ceiling, slipping the tubes into the girl's arms. "Is this the last treatment?" The older woman, mid fifties, looked up at me with her blood red eyes. I nodded in response and looked back down at the younger girl in the chair, withering and sweating in pain. We waited in silence for a few moments, her groans and shaky breaths the only thing audible. Finally, she stopped. Her eyes flew open, the dark green now replaced with a sparkling red. She stared at us for a minute or so, heightened senses taking in our new appearances, before a smile spread over her lips. "How may I serve you?"

okay, so I want to write a new story, but I don't know what kind! I'll post two intros, and you guys can tell me which one you like best? Thanks!