Close the Door, Throw the Key {n.h.}

“What are you trying to say?” I ask, sitting up.

“Niall, I’m trying to say,” Zayn says with a sigh. “That there’s no way to know how much longer she’s going to last. One of these times, I guarantee that she’s going to need serious medical care. And hearing what you said about her father - Niall, he’s not going to be the one to take her to a hospital. And what if you’re not there either?”






“I told you not to touch that!” my father screams, ripping the power drill from my hands.  “You’re fucking fifteen, you would think by now you would be smart enough to listen to me!”


“I-I’m sorry,” I say weakly, looking down.  “But you told me to hang up the hooks, and I didn’t see a better option-”




This blow to my face sends me flying back onto the driveway and into the coolish night air.  A small light in my garage is on, but it provides little light.  Sadly, I don’t need the light to see my father’s murderous glare.


“Don’t.  Touch.  My.  Tools,” he growls, taking a step toward me with each word.


“I’m sorry,” I say meekly, looking at the ground.  “It won’t happen again.  I’m sorry.”


“Damn right it won’t,” he hisses, now standing in front of me.


I nod.  “How will I get the hooks up in the garage, then?”


Within three seconds, I’m on the ground, my hands slightly - yet painfully - breaking my fall.  The sting appears immediately on my palms and on the back of my legs, but I don’t dare cry out.


“Don’t bother,” my father growls, towering over me.  “You’ll just screw it up anyway, like you always do.”


And with that, my father turns and strides into the garage and into the house.  On his way in he presses the button to make the garage door close, locking me out completely.


I’m forced to stay under the cover of the porch for the rest of the night.  My cuts probably get infected by many germs out in the open, going untreated for a whole night.  The next morning’s shower proves even more painful than the actual fall.  There was a stinging pain, along with a type of soreness and dryness to the wounds.


It takes several weeks for the scabs to completely disappear without a trace.



~*End Flashback*~



“-Maci,” I hear someone say.  “Maci.  Maci!”


I snap out of the frozen state I’m in to find Niall, looking up worriedly at me.  “What - yes?”


“Are you okay?  What are you doing?”


“What?” I ask lackadaisically.  I shake most of the memory from my mind.


“You’ve got a death grip on your knee,” he explains, resting his hand on mine - and sure enough, my hand was grasped around my leg.


It clicks in my brain that this is causing me pain, and I withdraw my hand quickly.  “Sorry,” I mutter for no reason.


“You’ve said that four times now!” Niall worries.  “Are you sure you’re alright?”


“Yes, I’m fine,” I reply quietly, starting to dab at my bloody knee again.  I’m really fine.  I can take care of myself, and I’m not that hurt anyway.  I stifle the grimace threatening to appear on my face.


“Are you sure?” he asks again, putting a hand on my cheek and turning me to face him.


For some reason, this sets me off.  “I’m fine, Niall!” I suddenly snap, pushing his hand away and sliding away from him.


Hurt crosses his face along with shock.  I immediately regret what I’ve done and my face turns apologetic.  “I’m sorry,” I say quickly.  “I have no idea what that was.  I guess I’m just stressed.”  I look down at the floor of the bus.  “I’m sorry.”


“You’ve got to stop saying that,” Niall says, scooting over to me and pulling me into a hug.


“Okay,” I say simply, and he kisses the top of my head.


I can’t seem to get the last part of my memory out of my head.  That night had been one of the most difficult I had ever endured.  It wasn’t physical, it was all mental.  I hadn’t gotten one minute of sleep, in fear that I wasn’t safe outside.  Ahh, the irony.  It turns out I’m not safe anywhere.  Wait, did I just say that?  I didn’t mean it.  I’m safe with Niall.  But then again, I had just been attacked by a girl.  No.  I’m safe with Niall...  Right?


“Alright!” Paul exclaims, walking in the room and clapping his hands together - I’ll have time to think later.  “Let’s get this show on the road!”

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