Autumn Leaves (Niall Horan)

Alicia Hollow has done something horrible and the only way out of it is to fake her own death and start over.

Niall Horan, her best friend, believes that she is really gone and he faces many challenges. Like becoming mentally and emotionally unstable. Even doing some crazy sinister things.

Alicia's new career makes her face Niall again.

How will this turn of events end? And what secrets lie behind their past lives?


4. Chapter Three

Niall's POV

My jaw slightly dropped when I saw them. They're eyes were red and puffy, and they had what seemed as permanent tear stains shining under the florescents.

All the confidence drained from my soul, spilling onto the floor and making salty tears sting at my eyes.I wiped the newborn droplets out of their ducts and started towards the door.

"Niall?" Her shaky voice made me tremble. I slowly and slightly swirled on my heel, facing them. "I-It's really you," she let a weak grin fall onto her lips as she outreached her arms, begging for me to hug her.

I wrapped my arms around Mrs.Hollow's waist for a short embrace. Pulling away, I noticed Mr.Hollow, his hands shoved into his pockets as he let the tears fall freely onto his cheeks. He never really had shown any emotion so this was bizarre; a foreign side of Dale Hollow.

"Why are you here?" Mrs. Hollow spoke, her soft brown eyes seemed bottomless.

"I-I needed help," I responded looking to the strange pattern on the carpet. Neon triangles covered the dark gray background; it reminded me of the skating rink that Alicia and I went to almost every weekend.

"Don't we all?" Mr.Hollow piped in, stepping closer. Guilt rushed over me, but I don't know why. I didn't kill their daughter; I killed people who looked like their daughter.

"Uh..yeah..," I kept my head hung guilt. Tatum was right, I do need to move on. It's been three, almost four, years. And maybe talking to Alicia's parents would help out. "Where's Dalton?" I questioned, noticing the presence of Alicia's younger brother being nonexistent.

"He doesn't come. He seems to be dealing better than us," Mr. Hollow answered.

That's strange. They were so close, would figure that he would take it the hardest.

"Oh..," my eyebrows raised.

"Surprising right?" Mrs.Hollow interrogated. I slightly chucked and nodded vigorously. "There's my Niall." She pinched my cheek. I beamed and pried her hand from my face.

"I have to go, though. I have training."

"Training? For what?" Her eyebrows furrowed together.

"Boxing," I threw her a sideways grin.

"You any good?" Mr.Hollow broke into the conversation once again.

"I don't know, but I have a match in three weeks. Maybe you can come," I suggested.

"Actually, no thanks. Boxing isn't my cup of tea. But, hey, I can see if Dalton would want to go."

I nodded. "That's fine. You know I did it because Tatum recommended it; to relive stress, ya know."


"Yup. Here, I'll give you my new number," I scrambled through my pockets for a scrap of paper. I pulled it out, scribbling my mobile number onto the white surface and handing it to him. He shoved the sheet into his pocket.

"It was great seeing you, Niall," Mrs. Hollow said, hugging me again.

"You, too." I sent Mr.Hollow a nod and he threw one back while I exited the building.

My shoes skidded on the asphalt as I made my way back to the car. I opened the door and slung myself in the seat. The keys slid into the ignition and I sped away.


"C'mon Niall! You can do better than that!" Tiny encouraged. I swung my fist harder at the bag. "Harder!" He raised his voice to help me her the message. I gave my best, doing my best hook. "Good," he sighed. "Keep going!"

I kept hitting the bag; picturing myself in it's place. My cruel evil mind.

How could I kill all those girls? Rape them? Most of them were virgins. I'm sick.

I punched the bag hard; taking powerful swings.

"Good. I need you to fight like that in three weeks, lad," Tiny complimented.

"Yes, sir," I took more hateful blows to the bag.

"Want to call it a night?" he questioned.

A smirk fell onto my lips as I stopped. "No," I said continuing to hit the bag.

"Don't strain yourself out, Niall. You've been training for three hours now."

My eyes widened and I let my eyes fall onto the clock hanging strictly on the wall. It had been three hours; I had worked all the way to ten thirty. I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my glove.

"Fuck," I breathed inaudibly. I slid the gloves off my rough hands and tossed them onto the floor.

"Quitting?" Tiny smirked, swiping the removed attire off the floor.

"Calling it a night," I corrected, taking a long swig of my water bottle. I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder, sweat covered the chest and trailed down from the armpits of my gray t-shirt.

His strong hand placed a firm pat onto my back. "See ya, lad."

I sent him a goodbye and exited the gym.

The cool winter breeze felt refreshing and comforting against my hot, sweaty skin. It ran through my blonde locks and whispered in my ear.

I climbed into my car and sped away to my flat.


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