Taken ~ 1D

I walked down the familiar road, my way home from my high school. I put my ipod on, listening to any random song. A song I had never heard of came on. I pulled my Ipod out. 'Taken' by One direction. I growled. "I hate one direction." I muttered. Over the softly playing music, I heard footsteps.

I turned around and saw 4 hooded men. Before I could screamed, something was hit over my head. The light of the late-afternoon was replaced by darkeness.




Mature-ish!!!

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3. Housework?

A/N: Eyy! It took me a while to write this chappy. My friend and I were on the phone. Then we started texting.

 

Delilah's POV

 

I woke up, the pillow beside me bare of curls. I sat up in bed. The alarm clock beside me read 11AM. I would be at school right now if I was a normal person. I climbed out of the amazingly fluffy blankets. I slid some slippers on. My feet are sensitive in the morning.

I waddled out into the lounge room. All 5 boys were sitting on the couches olaying COD. I cleared my throat and Harry's head snapped towards my direction. All the other boys remained playing the game. Thats right! FUCK OFF, MOFOS!

"Morning!" He chirped. "Morning." I groaned in my unattractive morning voice. He chuckled and invited me to sit on his lap. I declinded the request, sitting on the beanbag. "Hey bitch, go clean the kitchen." Niall ordered. I looked at him. "Fuck a duck, homo. I don't clean up after you." I scoffed.

He glared at me. "Clean the kitchen, or suck my dick." He offered with a smile. I glared at him. "What is wrong with you. I will never EVER please you." I said, getting out of my bean bag. At least I tried. I actually rolled from the bean bag and into the kitchen. "Don't forget to mop!" Niall yelled after me. "Fuck yourself." I growled.

I stood up at the kitchen door. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"  I screamed after looking at the tornado. I heard them laughing. I flipped each of them off. "Screw this. I don't clean." I growled, walking into Harry's room. "HARRY! SHE WONT CLEAN!" Niall whined. What a motherfucking prick.

I heard Harry rise from his chair. I crawled under the bed, hiding. The bad men surley wont make me clean their mess of a kitchen. I heard him unlock the door. "Delilah......I wont hurt you......just clean the kitchen......no dicks will have to be sucked." He cooed. I stayed under the bed.

"Are you........in the closet? No. Are you........in the bathroom? No. Under the bed?" The sheets cascading on the floor were picked up, revealing my body.

"You have a choice."

"Niether. I don't clean."

"Clean or do another job."

"I'm listening."

"Clean my car."

"No!"

"I'll lock you in the basement for the rest of the week." He growled. I huffed and got up from the floor. "Don't forget to mop!" He called. I grunted. What is it with these maniacs and moping? It's only wetting the floor with a stick that has flowing string cascading from on side! Seriously.

I took a step into the lounge room. "YAY! SHE AGREED!" Niall shouted. I flipped him off, only to recieve a slap. "Oh, thats right! Your a bunch of abusive mofos." I muttered. Harry threw a few garbage bags and a mop. WHY THE FUCK DO I HAVE TO MOP!

I grunted and pulled the equipment into the kitchen. I took a long look at the kitchen. How the hell do 5 boys mess a room this big overnight? I began to pick up pieces of toast from the floor. 1 piee of toast, 2 piece of toast, 3 piece of toast, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8 pieces of toast! At least I used my counting skills today!

I threw all 8 pieces of toast in the bag. What else to we have on the floor? Empty beer bottles. Some are even smashed. DO THESE BOYS WANT ME TO COMMIT SUICIDE?! I would must rather be in hell than cleaning some retarded kitchen.

After hours, and hours, and hours and even more hours, I had finished cleaning the floor. "ONTO THE COUNTER!" I said in the best British accent I could muster. "Zayn! The counter is NOT an ash-tray!" I yelled through the walls. "IT IS IF I SAY IT IS!" He yelled. Lunatic.

I wiped down all the ashes and cigarette butts into the garbage bag. I glaced over at the toaster. A piece of blue fabric was sticking out of the top. "Guys...what did you put in toaster?" I heard chuckling through the walls.

I grabbed a pair of salad tongs (A/N: I'm Australian, your probobly from another country ands I don't know what they call them there. Translation: SALAD PICKERUPERERS!) for saftey precautions. I grasped the edge of the blue fabric and gently pulled it up.

"ERMAHGURD! UNDERWARE?! SERIOUSLY?! AND YOU JUST HAD TO PICK A PAIR WITH SKID-MARKS! I HATE YOU ALL! MAY SATAN BURN YOUR BODYS IN PEACE!" I shrieked after picking the underware from the toaster. I snuck out of the kitchen, undies in 1 pair of tongs in my left hand. I looked aroubnd, nobody has seen me, good. I gently placed the underware ontop of Niall's head. I did an army-roll out of the lounge and into the kitchen.

Ichuckled to my cunning self and proceed cleaning the room. I found many more pieces of treausure before Niall saw the skiddy undies on his head. These include; condoms, spit balls, dirty cutlery, dirty plates and bowls, dirty clothes, more underware, a few diced tomatoes, a cat, a hooker and even a traffic cone. These boys are really evil.

"WHAT IS ON MY HEAD! GAHH! GUYS GET IT OFF! IT BURNS! ZAYN! HELP! DON'T LAUGH! I'M GOING TO KILL HER!" Niall squealed before trudging into the kitchen. He pinned me up against the wall.

"You made a fool of me, I'll kill you." He whispered in my ear. I got the bad type of shivers right on my spinal cord. He smashed his fist to my face several times. I fell to the floor in pain. "ARE YOU HURTING NOW?!" He yelled. His foot connected with my stomach. "NIALL!" I screamed out for mercy. "NOBODY IS LISTENING!" He finally stopped kicking me.

I curled up into a little ball before he threw me against the wall. No! I wont cry! He began to punch my stomach, really slowly.

 

*after the beating*

 

Niall left me alone after 30 minutes. I just lay there. Soaking up my own blood. If anyone offered to help me up, I would ignore them. I tried to go to sleep multiple times, but the pain was too intense. I soon decided just to shut my eyes and lay there. I wonder why nobody helped me. I thought at least Louis would help. Oh, but no. I'm the kidnapped bitch that nobody wants. I don't even know why these people want me.

I thought I was developing bonds with at least 2 people. Harry was kinda nice last night, after all the beatings. I thought he wanted to change for me. I guess I thought wrong. I always think wrong. I have never gotten above or below a B in school. I'm just a plain unpopular girl with abosolutly no friends.

Girls at my school would get their boyfriends to beat me up. They would say that I made a move on them, when I'm a girl. Word spread fast about me being a lesbian. But I'm not. I like guys, alot. I had a crush on this one guys, his name was Nate. But he was popular, and he had a girlfriend. But I never knew if he liked me back. Probobly not.

I took up boxing for self-defence, to protect myself from bullys. But they would beat me harder if I had a go at them. But one day, all the bullying stopped. I still wasn't accepted. People still believed that I was a lesbian. I guess word got out that I tried to commit suicide. Yep. You read right. SUICIDE. People were egging me on. Telling me to hang myself, or jump off a bridge. I wanted to go the most peaceful way. And I heard people in different classes discussing the fact that drowing is the most peacful way to go. So I tried.

But Nate found me just in time. He pulled me up, whereas any other person would just watch, bent over laughing. I had to go to hospetle for 1 whole week. The cheerleader would occasionally beat me after school, but they never got too extreme like Niall just did.

I guess Niall beating brought back terrible memories. But I have been beaten alot harder than that. From my father. I was 16 and I was mysteriously invited to a party. I was 1 year older then everyone else in my grade. People thought I was kinda cool that year. So they got me hammered. I didn't wake up for 2 days. I went home and my dad beat me. It was terrible. He used every instrument in the house. He even shot me in the shoulder. I got a restraining order from him, his a registered criminal.

The other time was at my grade 7 graduation. I bought a cheap dress, my parents were discussing divorse, and we needed all the money we could get. So the dress was second hand. It wasn't the prettiest dress of the night. It was probobly the ugliest. I got discusting glares when I went up on the stage to accept my certificate. Probobly because my name was last on the list, and everyone else was rich. Later in the night, we had the awards coming out. All the popular girls got really good titles. Like most athletic, or most artistic. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to get any awards. But the last award was ; Most musically talented. I nearly shit my pants when our principle said my name. I walked up onto the stage to accept the award. I smiled as we took the picture. "YEAH! BUT SHE DOESENT HAVE ANY TASTE IN CLOTHES!" A student yelled out. The tormenting continued. I thought it would all stop when the evening finished. My parents carried my prize money and the trophy to the car, while I waited at the hall. I felt someone push me to the groun and beat me. I'm pretty sure 1/2 of 7th grade was beating me. The kids ran away when my parents returned. I had to stay at the hospetle for 2 weeks. I'll always be scarred by thopse immature little brats.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by the sound of footsteps into the kitchen. "You alright? Niall went a little to hard on you." I heard...Harry say. I nodded my head. "Can you stand up?" He asked. I sighed and tried getting up. I could sit up, but not stand up. He sighed and put one arm under my knees, and the other holding my back upright. I guess people call that bridal style.

He carried me past a bunch of guilty looking mofos and into Harry's room. He layed me down on the bed. "Just wait here for a second. I need to get the first aid kit." He walked out of the room. I leant up on the bed, waiting for his return. I heard a small argument from outside the door. "YOU DON'T HAVE PERMISSION TO HURT HER!" "SHE ISN'T YOURS! WE ALL AGREED TO SHARE THE BEATINGS!" "wELL, I SAID YOU COULD MIDLY HURT HER! AND THAT WAS AN EXTREMLY SMALL CAUSE!" "SHE PUT A PAIR OF DIRTY UNDERWARE ON MY HEAD!" "FUCK A DUCK, NOBODY CARES!" "I DO!" "WELL, DELILAH IS LYING ON THAT BED, LIMP. AND YOU THINK THAT YOUR ACTIONS WERE APPROPIOTE?!" I was cut off from eavesdropping by the door opening.

Louis. Somebody I didn't necesserally want to see. He walked over to the bed with a sheepish grin. "How are ya holding up?" He asked, hand slightly shaking. "I hurt. Alot. Why didn't you come and help?" He sighed. "Harry would suspect something." He groaned. Huh? "There is nothing to suspect. It's not like you have a crush or something on me. I'm fugly." I laughed at my truthful words.

He looked confused. "Of corse not. No crushes. But you arn't fugly." He said. I rolled my eyes. "But I'm not pretty either." He sighed and nodded.

 

 

 

I am ugly to him, right?

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