Dreamers

- A One Direction Fan Fiction -

Leila Brooks, Natalie Chapman and Jara Martinez are three best friends, about to leave home and become individuals in the world.

Each friend has their own personal goal in life;
Natalie aspires to become a respectable journalist. Jara dreams of making it in the world of sports science and working with some of the most elite athletes. And then there's Leila, who dreams only of finding one famous boy to change her whole world.

But what happens when one friends fairytale becomes a shocking reality?

With the world as she knows it flipped upside down into an alternate reality, will Leila Brooks be able to handle her new life ? Or will the carefully constructed dream come crashing down, along with her confidence in her own aspirations.

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4. Kidnappers & Strange Phone Calls.

You know what? In all my 18 years of living, I can honestly say i’ve never experienced any feeling better than that of waking up on a Monday morning after finishing school forever, unless my Dad decides a tutor is a way to go, which is never going to happen if i have anything to do with it, and realising that you have no where to be. That feeling, is one of complete and utter bliss. Of course this bliss could be amplified by adding, oh I don’t know, the Bahamas into the equation, but right now, at home in bed, it was about as good as life for me was going to get.  ‘Leila, it’s 9 o’clock!’ A husky male voice called loudly, bringing me back to reality and the state of awakeness. 9 o’clock is not what I call a sleep in, thanks Dad for that selfish act. Wait, husky male voice? My Dad’s a male, but he sure ain’t husky. Aaaaand, I was sure i’d trained him well enough to let me sleep in until at least 10:00am on weekends ? This was definitely not, in any way, shape or form my own Father’s voice. My eyes flew open, and trust me, although the site may have been something any other girl my age would’ve enjoyed, it sure as hell came as a shock to me. This wasn’t my bedroom. In fact, I was sure this wasn’t even my house. I was currently lying in bed in a swanky modern apartment, one i’d never even seen before. I racked my brain for any information or explanations as to how I went to sleep in my bedroom last night and woke up in a completely different room. I could only come up with one; i’d been kidnapped. I fought the urge to scream, scared of my kidnappers reaction. Date rape, that’s what would’ve happened. I squirmed about, shivering at the thought, that’s when I realised I was missing my clothes. ‘Fuck,’ I whisphered agressively. I needed to get out, but I wasn’t about to leave naked. My mind was buzzing, my thoughts mixed and frenzied. There was a male in this apartment, and I was naked. Holy shit I was going to die. Today is the day I die. Rest In Peace Leila Jessie Brooks; one who was treasured by all, gone too soon.  I’d just like to put out there that this was completely out of the norm for me, the whole sleeping naked scenario. I don’t know about you, but I like the feeling of being covered and secure in my pyjamas. Plus the fact my warm winter ones were pink with cartoon pigs and clouds on them.  What? They’re soft, don’t judge me. Leila, remain calm, calm Leila, calm. Tranquil, serene. We can do this, just locate your clothes and we can attempt an escape without the kidnapper seeing you. Oh shit. What if he took my clothes? And I don’t know where the front door is. Oh my, I’M GOING TO BE STUCK HERE FOREVER. TRANQUIL LEILA, BE TRANQUIL. LIKE KOI FISH IN A JAPANESE POND. Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best scene of ‘tranquility’ to imagine, but it was the first thing that came to my mind alright?  It took me a minute to calm my breathing, and once I felt a slight ounce of confidence in my rather vulnerable state, I sat up, noticing immediately that my clothes had just been thrown around the room as if- no no no No No NO! Leila Brooks is not that type of girl. Leila Jessie Brooks promised herself she would NEVER be that type of girl.  For once I prayed i’d been raped, and not woken up a slut. ‘Shit, fucking shit,’ I cursed under my breath. For some reason my usually intelligent brain could only think up these two words as I quickly dressed myself. I’d fought the urge to pretend I was still asleep and gotten up, retreiving my clothes. Once I was dressed I tip-toed my way over to the bathroom, and entered silently. I rubbed at my face, which seemed slightly different, almost older, although I dismissed the idea immediately. It had only been one night, right? The vigorous rubbing removed the remenance of last night’s messy make up and I gently combed my hair, which was now noticably longer, before tieing it up into a messy bun. Wait, why was I fixing my hair and worrying about my appearance when my potential killer was down the hall?  Leila Brooks being completely irrational and dramatic since 1994, thankyou, thankyou very much. ‘Leila, hurry up babe, or we won’t be able to finish breakfast before we go to work,’ the husky voice called out again, he sounded almost... loving. I needed to get out, he knew my name and showed signs of affection. And we?! Who does this guy think he is! For starters I don’t work, and even if I did I sure as hell would’nt go with him. Oh, and not to mention he called me babe. There is nothing, nothing I tell you, that I hate more in this world than people calling each other babe. It just reminds me of that bloody pig they made a movie about, and well, when I was young, I loved that pig movie, judge me all you want but it’s true. Pigs are amazing animals, even better in the form of bacon, which reminded me- I could smell bacon coming from the kitchen.  My kidnapper wanted to fatten me up. Great, now he’s messing with my self esteem. Am I not good enough the way I am husky boy? Do I need to gain weight for you to accept me? You know society is fucked when even kidnappers aren’t happy with who they’ve taken. As I exited the bedroom, I realised there was no way I was going to be able to get to the front door without passing him in the kitcken, where he happened to be whistling to the tune of none other then my jam - Katy Perry’s California Girls. ‘California girls we’re unforgettable, daisy dukes, b-’ I began singing quietly to myself before I realised. WHAT ON EARTH WAS WRONG WITH ME? I was potentially kidnapped - well, I’d like to think there was no potential about it, husky boy stole me from my own bed, the bloody bed snatcher - and I was standing here singing California Girls to the whistling of my kidnapper himself. Looks like my only option was to make an emergency exit through the bedroom window. As I turned back into the bedroom I made a bee-line for the large window on the right side of the room. I pulled the blinds, to realise that I was on the mother fucking top floor. All the credits to this guy, he had done an incredibly good job on making sure I cannot escape without his knowledge. Maybe he was rich? Penthouse apartments don’t come cheap. Or maybe, just maybe, he thought my sex was good enough to rent the penthouse.  Yeah, I think its the second idea. Back on track Leila! I reminded myself, my imaginative mind trying to cast it’s thoughts back to last night. Nothing. Not. A. Thing. Date rape. Must’ve been. ‘Okay Leila, act really casual,’ I murmered, ‘Walk past him briskly, and if he says so much as a hi, say bye and leave. Run like the mother fucking wind. On the count of three girl. One, two, three!’ I breathed in deeply, before practically springting to the front door. ‘Babe, where are you going? Babe, I cooked breakfast!’  And that’s when I made the colossal mistake of turning around, because, now in my sight was my true kidnapper, but he wasn’t just any kidnapper, my kidnapper was Harry Styles.  My expression was so shocked it was as though my jaw unhinged from my face, dropping to the floor. Harry Styles, looking slightly older, I might add, the resident jackass was standing in front of me, with nothing but a frying pan in front of his you-know-what. I screamed. I screamed at the top of my lungs. I have never, ever, in my entire 18 years of healthy living, screamed as loud as I just had, and that’s when I acted upon the only logical instinct I had when I was confronted by Harry Styles, naked. I - and this was very mature guys, I know - threw stuff at him. Picking up anything within my reach, I hit him flat bang on the foreheard with a TV remote, yay, 10 points to Leila. I threw every single cushion I could find as I scrambled around on the sleek, black L shaped sofa. Harry had, by this point, dropped the pan of bacon onto the floor and my eyes burned. I was now faced with the undeniably large problem of his bare penis. Sheilding my virgin eyes with one hand, I used the other to aim straight for his head once more. ‘What the fuck are you doing babe?!’ he cried as he expertly dodged a pillow that was heading for straight on target. God bless his soul for somehow still calling me babe during all this, because to be honest, if someone was throwing shit at me, the last thing on my mind would be calling them babe, in fact, i’d be throwing their shit back and calling them far worse. A large plate I had thrown in a last attempt at detterring him, hit the wall, producing the loudest smash. I took the chance to take advantage of Harry’s pure shock at my outburst and seeing my lovely black and white bag I recognised I ran, out of the flat and into the first lift that came. Digging through my bag I produced none other then the holy grail - what looked to be my phone, although it was unrecognisable and definitely not the iphone I had at home. I wasn’t sure anymore whether it truly was my phone, but that didn’t matter. Instead of having my lovely panda phone cover I normally had, this phone had a pink, bejewelled cover that looked as though it had been picked out by my Mother. After admiring the bejewelling, I went to turn on the phone, but I immediately had a problem. I DIDN’T KNOW THE PASSWORD. Do not cry, do not cry, I warned myself sternly. I had a bad habit of being over the top emotional in times of a crisis and if I may say so myself, this was the crisis of all crisis’ there has ever been and ever will be. I fiddled with the phone for a minute as I tried to figure out an alternative way to unlock the phone, but it was no use.  Then, as if by magic, the phone began ringing. It was an unknown number. ‘Hello?’ I aswered. ‘Leila, Leila!’ a boys voice stammered. It sounded alot like Ethan. ‘Ethan?’ ‘Leila, it’s the book, the one I gave you,’ he announced before I heard the beeping that signalled the end of the call. He’d hung up.

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