Live While We're Criminals (Niall Horan and Justin Bieber)

"They say I'm a criminal. A theif. With no respect for anyone, or anything. Listen. I don't go looking for trouble... Trouble comes looking for me." - Allison

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19. Chapter 18

Hey internet! Sorry for not updating I've been sooooo sick, and my computer broke! Not a very good week for me! But don't worry, I'm feeling better, and so is my computer! :D I fixed him up  and he's good to go! For now :/ I need a macbook Pro! Anyone want to send me one? P.S. did you all see Ed's performance at the grammy's!? And he didn't get an award!! :( They probably thought he's too good for one! P.P.S. We changed the website URL so make sure to check that out! BYE!!!!  ENJOY, COMMENT AND VOTE!! –Denny and Macey xx
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Chapter 18

Allison
                My eyes roamed the small sized room. Every single wall is covered with pictures of me. From everywhere. At the airport, with Brendan. In the coffee shop, with Brendan. Me and Niall talking. Even me in the airplane. There’s one picture of me in the airplane, where my eyes are staring directly at the camera, and the person holding it. It must’ve been when the police guy was trying to get on board, but was kicked off. I don’t remember Justin being anywhere near me… But he must’ve been, because how else are these pictures here? Is he my secret spy… The person sent to bring me to jail? No… He’s a celebrity… They wouldn’t risk his life… Right? Well if he’s not the spy, then who else could it be? It’s him. It is him.
                I shut my eyes, and bit my lip. How could I be so stupid? Falling for a stupid trap like this. I turned the lights off and closed the door behind me. I opened the door in front of me, and walked inside, closing the door. The lights were already on.
                The bathroom is as big as a kid’s bedroom. The walls are all painted gray-white and match the ceiling. There are lights on the ceiling. The circular white ones. To my left, the sinks are nailed to a tannish half circle-like platform. The wall by the sinks, are made off little black square tiles, which surround a square mirror. 3 Feet away from the two sinks, is a clear glass shower, with a glass sliding door which opens towards the sinks. Right next to the shower, and right in front of me, is a large spacious bathtub. The outside is lined up with the same black square tiles, which are by the sink. On the wall next to the bathtub, is a modern day window which overlooks tall trees, and Justin’s garden, which I doubt he himself waters. Tan curtains cover the window, so you won’t be exposed.
                I locked the door behind me, and ran the water in the bathtub. The water quickly turned to warm, and as I waited for the bathtub to fill up; I stripped my clothes, and looked at my body in the mirror. I have bruises all over my body, from fights I’ve had with prison guards and criminals in jail last week. There are also large scars all over my body, from battles I’ve been to. There are only 2 scars, which I cherish the most. The first one is a large faded white line, made from a dagger on my stomach that my dad had made when I was five. I cherish that one because it was that was the last day my mom stopped caring for me. Normally, she would’ve told my dad to stop and then start yelling at me. She would take me to the hospital and we would stay there until I get better. We visited the hospital at least 2 times a month, but on that day, when my father pulled out his dagger, my mom just stood and watched. There was absolutely no emotion in her face, even after I started screaming and pleading for help. Even after I just begged them to kill me. A year after she stopped caring, her old happiness was turned into anger, and she too started beating me, hurting me, and cutting me. I wish I died then. I wish I never lived to escape from them, and to run away and live a life of a criminal. A life of death, blood and gore.
                My second scar, my first scar from a battle. My first battle to be exact. The person who made my scar across my leg, is long dead, but I can’t say I’m not happy from what he did to me, because I am. The scar he left me, showed power and courage. Power, from how I killed him slowly and painfully afterwards, and courage, because I was only a child back then. And yet, I managed to watch him bleed himself to death, while begging anyone to just shoot him and end his miserable life there.
                I stepped inside the bathtub, and let the warm water rise to my body. It was soothing and definitely made my muscles relax.
                Now I have to think about what to do with Justin downstairs. I could kill him… But it’s going to be pretty hard to hide a famous heart-throb’s corpse… I could just shoot and leave. Or I could just sneak out, and hopefully run away from him while praying that he won’t track me down.
After 30 minutes of just sulking in the bath, I finally brought myself to wash my hair and my body. I stepped out unto the tan rug near the tub, and dried myself off. I carefully put my clothes back on, because I’m so tired. It’s probably around 2 AM right now, and I’m 100% positive I won’t be sleeping tonight. Well, unless I kill him in the house, and then just sleep here, but I’d be risking someone coming inside expectantly and having to explain to them why Justin’s dead.
                I walked downstairs, slowly, and made my way to his kitchen by my memory. The kitchen isn’t exactly what I planned out to be. Yes I was expecting large, but I wasn’t expecting ginormous. Almost everything is made out of marble, and there are 2 fridges. They’re both side by side, except they look like a closet. They were wooden, and even had the same intricate designs. You can’t really guess it’s a fridge unless you open it. Just was sitting on a bar stool with a plate of noodles in front of him. There is one more plate next to him, which I’m guessing is for me. My stomach growled, but I can’t risk eating that food. He might’ve poisoned it, or worse, put some kind of drops inside that would knock me out, and next thing I know, I’m being sent to some jail in Afghanistan where they torture me and keep me in a medal facility with no light, and barely any air!
                I walked up behind him, and reached towards my boot. Justin saw me walking inside the kitchen, so I don’t have much time before he turns around and figures out I have a gun with me. I felt around my boot and found nothing. Don’t panic, maybe my other boot… Nothing… Maybe I left it upstairs?! Panic started to wash over me. What if Justin finds it, then I’m screwed. Maybe I should just sit down and pretend nothing is happening.
“If you’re searching for your gun, don’t bother. You won’t find it,” Justin replied around a mouthful of noodles.
“What?!” I nearly shouted. I think I lost my voice there for a second. How the fuck does Justin know about my gun!?
“Come on, I know you saw my pictures of you. And I bet you can already guess what I have to do know,” Justin stood up, and spun around. His voice filling the room. I shrank slightly. He’s as tall as me, but something in his posture informed me that he isn’t up for games. Not that I minded, but for some reason, I think I’d feel bad for hitting him… No! I shouldn’t feel bad, he’s sending me to the jail and maybe even Afghanistan! There’s no reason for me to feel bad about him!
                I straightened up slightly, and Justin smirked at me. He took a step towards me, and I took a step back. We kept going like this until my back finally reached the wall. Justin didn’t back up though, he just kept coming towards me.
                When he was nearly five inches from me, and I could feel his breath on my face, he reached around his back. It took him a 10 of seconds to find what he was looking for, and 5 seconds for me to realize that he was pulling out his gun.
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Did you enjoy it!? Sorry it’s so short!! I’ll try and make tomorrow’s a little bit longer!!! :) xx xx xx xx xx by the way, COMMENT, VOTE AND SUBSCRIBE TO OUR WEBSITE!!!!!! –Denny and Macey xx

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