I'm your average girl, moody teenager, everyone knows me. Except they think I'm a murderer. It's not true, of course, but does that matter? Not to them; they hate me, but I survive. But it isn't until a certain band member- with the name of Niall James Horan- comes to town that my world really spins. What will happen to me? That's for me to know, and me to tell. See you around.


23. Confrontation

"So that's what you want, is it? Not only for me to suffer, but everyone around you? You know this might even hurt mom. Not me, but you. The poor son, actually a sociopathic murderer. How would she like that?" I decided, looking straight at his face. He smiled back at me, and shook his head.

"Oh sis, you don't seem to see it. I don't care about anyone else. You know that, considering you know all about sociopaths. But, you never seemed to take this into consideration; How do you believe I became a sociopath in the first place?" He put his hand on his chin, mocking every thought I made.

"Obvious. There was never any trace of mental illness in our family, so it's not generic. Sometimes it's bad influences, but no one around here is one. So that leaves one option; childhood trauma. That's what I don't get, we had perfect childhoo-"

"That was you!" He burst out, screaming:

"You were the perfect child, you were the popular one, you were the smart one. But me? I was the disappointment, the failure that no one wante-"

"That was YOU! You had the friends, you had all the love because you were the oldest! All you did was tell yourself lies in order to make you feel powerful, that's what you DO. You always have, always will. You'll never have a good life because you make yourself th-" I tried, mostly to stall, but to help as well. Why? I don't know.

"I don't want your diagnosis! For all I know you're spewing lies! I want you dead so I never have to hear you again. And I'll have it my way, for once." And just like that, I had a dagger imbedded in my right thigh. Honestly, I didn't even see him holding it, but that didn't stop my scream. I heard a beep, and realized the camera was on now.


"Not so strong now, are you?" He pulled a knife out of a bag in the corner.

"I'm not sure anyone can avoid screaming when they suddenly get a dagger stabbed in their fracking thigh!" I screamed, hanging my head backwards.

"But couldn't they."

"I'm pretty sure, let's find out. Just hand me a knife and we'll test it on you." He started laughing and said:

"You think I'm afraid of pain?"

"No, no one is afraid of actual pain, they're afraid of how it will affect them. What actually triggers the scream is the shock of the pain it sends through your nerves, not the actual fear itself." He looked at me with pure disgust.

"You're done talking." He pressed the knife to my throat and I felt warm fresh blood drip down my neck. His arm tensed as he was about to slit my throat. And then he scrambled backward as I heard the door crash open. My stalling worked.

Police swarmed around me as they took my brother down. Few other officers came over to help me, take the dagger out of my thigh, untie me and help me stand up. Slowly we hobbled out of the Shed, only to come face to face with my friends. And that's when I was attacked.

With hugs, of course.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...