My Hidden Heart

16-year-old Gianna, is in need of some help. She needs to escape. With an abusive father and step-mother, a sister that's near death, and a loving mother dying in the hospital, her life is falling apart. Until she meets Niall. He's different from other people, and madly in love with her. But he won't tell her who he is. He says it will change her life. But Gianna is in need of some change. How far will she go to find out the truth? my first fan fic/mystery story... I hope you like it! comment comment favorite favorite and like it up! :*

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10. Beauty

The song that I heard last night is stuck in my head. I sing that song when Niall isn't here. He left to go somehwere important, at least that's what he said. So now I'm lonely and bored. I have no one to talk to and nothing to do. I hate watching TV because it's all fake, I want something real. So I just sit here and think of something exciting to do when Nurse Sami barges in like she always does. "Where is Niall today?" I reply with a shrug. I honestly don't know where he went its just that I am so worried he won't come back. "When am I to be released from here?" She points her finger in the air and walks out of the room, leaving the door open. She comes back with a clipboard and stares down intenesly at it. Scanning the paper in front of her, she answers, "Well according to your blood tests and records, you should be clear to go in a few days since you've been here for a week and a half. When your feeling ready, strong and healthy, you can leave." I smile and nod. She turns around and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind her. I watch her walk away. This is so boring. I think about things exciting to do. I get up and walk around the room. On the table besdide the couch where Niall sleeps, I see a paper. I take it into my hands and study it. "A.N.C.W." I have heaard it before. I race my mind for an answer. It sounds familiar but I don't know where. Then I remember! There was a commerical for a hotline called "Abused and Neglected Chilren Hotline" That's where I'm staying, well most likely. Then, I turn the page because the A.N.C.W. front page has nothing interesting to read. The other side of the paper has more boring words and spaces to fill out. I drag my eyes over to see the next paper. It's a map of all the buildings in the whole regional hospital. So I flip that page and see a map of Building B with a dot cliaming, you are here in the green section. I look around the map just to see where I am out of curiousity. I am in the green section A.N.C.W which is very small compared to the cancer center for woman's needs. I run my eyes past it and go to another section entitled, "Offices and Conferences" Then, something in my mind makes me go back to the woman's cancer center. My mother just might be staying in there! My mind seems to know more than my body because I immeditiely grab a binder sittting by the lamp. It is full of maps and rooms. I flip to the purple section "Cancer Center for Women's Needs" and search for room 276. I have no clue how my mind knows all of this information when I didn't even think of my mother in the first place. I pull the tube attached to the intervenious drip away from the needle inserted in my arm. I don't want to take the needle out because it hurts to get it put back in again. Then, I go to my suitcase neatly packed by the window, and look for something soft and easy to sneak around in. Then, a lightbulb goes off in my head, the nurses in a hospital wear white. I scan my memory for an image of Nurse Sami. She is wearing white pants with a white and baby pink polka-dotted shirt with white sneakers today. I don't have sneakers but I do have a white shirt and pants. I have no clue who packed this bag. I don't even think these are my clothes because they are all too big on me. But then I think, I have lost so much weight in the past year. These had to be my clothes but from the past. I pull some white sweatpants out of the bag and a white tank top. I scurry to the bathroom just in case nurse Sami walks in on me again. The bathroom smells of bleach from being cleaned so much. I look at myself in the mirror. I look much better than the first time I saw myself in the mirror after my escape. I was pale and all skin and bone. I had no fat what-so-ever on my body. I could see my ribs and the femur bones in my body. Now, I am much better, with more muscle and fat. I have gotten my color back and I feel much more energetic. I pull my red lifeguard sweatshirt off and put the white tank top on. I pull the sweatpants on over my pink, black and green striped shorts. I smile and realize that my teeth look pretty much bleached. I brush them a lot now because before, I couldnt brush them at all. Now I bet I have OCD because I am so obsessed with keeping them clean. I reach over to the tweezers by the toothbrushes. I have never cared so much about my appearance before. I pluck my eyebrws for about a half hour until they look skinny and normal instead of ferrets above my eyes. My hair is in need of a haircut, desperately. I have bad dead ends and it gets frizzy at the bottom. If I am actually going to see my mother, I don't want to worry her with stories of torture. I want to let her know how well taken care of we are. And how much I miss her. It's been two years since shes been diagnosed with cancer. I don't even know if she's still alive. She's been on countless rounds of chemo and radiation, so I don't know if she's living. I haven't heard anything about her since I was put into the closet. I go to the closet where the cosmetic tools are. I find the scissors and place them onto the counter. My hair is past my butt! I figure I can cut it to the middle of my back because that is where the healthy hair starts. I wrap it up into a pony tail and cut all the hideous split ends off. I let it down nd cascade down my back. I make sure it's even and make sure it looks well taken care of. I snipped off about 5 inches off and watched them fall to the white bathroom tiles. My hair is a honey brown with light highlights in it. The ends looked so dark from not being healthy. My side bangs have grown out and I don't even know where my part is. My hair is constantly in a bun or ponytail. I examine where I want to cut my bangs. I pull the hair in front of my face and cut at a sharp angle. I swing my head to the side and they fall perfectly to the side of my face. They reach my top lip and I am too lazy to cut them any shorter. In examine my hair in the mirror and settle. It's long and healthy which is a surprise after all the abuse I've endured. I turn away from my reflection and flip the light switch off. As I pass the binder and the paper, I grab them into my hands. I am ready to search for my mother. But first, I have to mentally prepare myself for the outcome.

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