"I want to love like you made me feel. When we were eighteen." - One Direction


11. Telling the boys


Alys's POV


As the boys set me on the bed I rub my forehead. "Jeez, my head hurts like someone just punched me in the face."

"Liam, go get her some water." Liam nods and hurries out of the room.

"Are you okay?" Harry ask worriedly. Harry feels my burning hot forehead and gives me a look of concern. He smooths my soft brown curls and kisses the top of my forehead.

I rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I'm okay, mother." I forget that Louis and Niall are still in my room, but I heard Niall go "ooh, she got you there, Harold," and then we all laughed. Liam came rushing back with a glass of water and handed it to me, I brought it to my lips and trickled the ice-cold water down my throat.

"Alys," said Harry, suddenly turning serious. "What happened when you-"

"You need lots of rest, Alys," cut in Liam, shooting Harry a warning look. "We'll talk about this tomorrow."

I nod a bit. "Alright, boys, good night."

"Good morning to you, too," remarked Louis. We all laughed when we remembered that it was already two o'clock in the morning. I roll my eyes and slip my head down the pillow and close my eyes, falling asleep.


I woke up who knows when, but I felt much better, the burning headache gone. I stood up, stretched, and got my clothes for today along with some toiletries. I walked past the kitchen and into the bathroom and put on a loose soft pink sweater, a fuzzy, white wrap-around scarf, jeans and high boots. I put a beanie on (yes, I loved beanies with my curly hair), then added a bit of makeup, curling my lashes and putting a bit of mascara and strawberry colored lip gloss. I looked myself in the mirror for a last check and then came out and put my stuff away and walked to the living room. The boys were on the couch, and I wasn't surprised that they were working on their song lyrics, called "18". They didn't see me, so I snuck up on them and, smirking, I jumped on to the couch with as much force as I could and said, "Good morning, boys!"

The reaction was priceless. Louis let loose a high-pitched scream, Niall fell off the couch, Liam jumped about twenty feet in the air in fright, Harry was clutching his chest and breathing rapidly, also jumping back. I laughed so hard I toppled off the couch, tears came to my eyes.

"That was the..." I said between my laughter, gasping for breath. "The funniest thing ever..."

We were all laughing by then, especially noting Louis's high-pitched scream. Finally we all settled back to normal. "Anyways, how are you doing, Alys?" Asked Harry, giving me a grin.

"I'm fine, Styles," I say, rolling my eyes at his grin. But then I remember. Jonathan Hilton. And Damen Welshfield. Damen killed my father!

"Alys, you froze up," said Harry, worriedly. "What's wrong?"

I rub my forehead. "You have no idea," I mumble.

Harry shakes his head. "What? I don't have an idea about what?"

"I forgot to tell you boys," I said, facing everyone. They all turned their attention to me. "Um, yeah," I sigh, twirling my fingers. "My dad...he died. Two years ago. Car accident on a business trip."

"I'm sorry, love," said Liam softly. I smile gratefully at him and continue.

"Well...I had some sort of a dream when I passed out yesterday. No, it wasn't a dream. It was a memory. I saw my mum and my dad and me when I was younger.

"Turns out that my dad was watching the news and that there was an announcement on the television saying that there was an abused runaway named Damen Welshfield. He was wearing grey in the picture on the screen. I was one years old at the time." I took a shaky breath and continued: "Well, a few days ago, I found out my dad's journal hidden in my trunk. I never noticed it before. I read through the first few entries. One of them was on my second birthday, saying that they took me out on the streets that day and I kept on pointing at something grey and saying "Damen". He never found out why.

"Skipping back to the memories I had when I passed out, the next one was when I was fifteen years old. That was when my dad died. A lawyer came to our house and explained to us about who killed him. It was Damen Welshfield, the runaway. He was drunk and drove out at night and crashed into dad. One of his glass windows shattered and a few of them cut him badly. By the time he arrived at the hospital he had bled to death."

The boys sat, shocked, on the couch. I took a shaky breath and stood up.

"Just to let you know," I said simply, and walked back to the room.


Guys oh my gosh!!!!

1K views on my story! Holy crap! You guys are amazing! Wow, never thought I'd make it this far. :)

I need a co-author for my next story I'm planning on! If we get 1-2 more likes/favorites, I'll make a contest so you can have a shot at working together with me! Thank you all so much. Love from, WritingObsessions

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