The Diary |Niall Horan|

No matter what, I was going to find out who killed my best friend.


2. Nightmare


Spanning every square inch around me like a black hole. There wasn't any kind of light. Just pitch black. It looked as if it was only miles and miles of nothingness. I couldn't see, couldn't feel, and I was alone. The only sounds were my own breathing and the rhythmic beating of my heart. I open my mouth to let out a scream, but no noise comes out. I try again and again only to get the same result. 

Now I was lonely and scared

The rational sense of my mind told me to calm down, that freaking out wasn't going to help anything. The fear sense told me I should be terrified. I didn't know which to listen to. 


I whip my head to the side, silently begging the darkness to go away so I could see who called my name. If anyone did, that is. The voice was so faint I didn't know if it was real or if I was just imagining things. This whole situation felt like one big hallucination. 


There it was again, desperately calling out my name. It only takes a second for it to sink in before my body begins to shake. That voice. I knew  that voice.


Then suddenly the scenery was changing. I wasn't in darkness, but in a bedroom instead. The walls were light pink and there was a blond girl sitting on the bed.


Clearly alive, her bright blue eyes not leaving the small book she was writing in. It was strange. I obviously knew where I was, but it didn't feel like I was really there. Cautiously, so I wouldn't scare her, I make my way over to the bed and sit down beside her. She was so focused on her writing that she didn't acknowledge my presence. That was one of her worst habits. I lightly tap on her shoulder to get her attention. When she doesn't budge I do it again only a little bit harder this time. Still nothing. Curious as to what she was so lost in, I tilt my head so I could get a look at the book. Her hand was flying so fast that I couldn't see what she had written, only the date inked in at the top corner of the page.

September 13. Why did that date sound so familiar? I couldn't shake the feeling that I was forgetting something important. 

I watch as she closes the book, stands up, and walks out of the room. Being ever so nosy, I follow along behind her. She runs down the stairs and is out the front door faster than my mind can even think. I somehow managed to catch up to her, panting as my lungs were attempting to get air back into them, just as she disappeared into the woods next to her house.

I was confused. Cassidee never went in there. Especially not alone. It was hard work getting through the thick brush and 
maneuvering around the dozens of trees. And Cass hated hard word. I stood there dumbfounded, not daring to go in after her.

I had begun to pace back and forth, waiting for her to come out when it hit me. Hit me like when I ran into the sliding glass door at my Nana's house.

September 13. The day she went missing.

Cold chills waved over me from both the rain and worry. I stop my back and forth and freeze when I hear a blood curdling scream coming from deep inside. It 
reverberated off the trees, causing all of the birds to fly off of them. 

"Cassidee!" I screech, my voice having apparently come back. 

No response. 

I scream over and over again, only to be met with the same silence. Then there was something pulling me back. Pulling me away from the woods, away from the house and back into the never ending darkness. I kick and scream, tears rolling down my face. But I couldn't escape, and it was already too late. 


I wake with a start, bolting upright in my bed, sweaty and trembling.

What the hell?

It takes a minute for the shakes to die down after coming to the conclusion that it had all been only a bad dream. More like a nightmare, actually. I had never had a dream like that before in my life. And my head was throbbing mercilessly, causing me to whine. I crawl out of the dampened sheets and head downstairs to the kitchen to grab a glass from the cabinet. I fill it with tap water and take a small sip to wet my parched throat.

My head wasn't letting up so I get two painkillers out of the bottle sitting on the counter. I pop them into my mouth and pick up the water, taking the pills quickly. 

I jump slightly as my phone goes off where it was sitting on the kitchen table, signalling a text message. I realized I must have left it down her last night. Composing myself, I walk over and pick it up off the table, still holding the glass of water. 

Fear courses throughout my body as I read the threat and I drop the glass, shattering it into tiny pieces on the cool tile floor.

Your friend's gone. Now it's your turn, bitch.  xx


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