Diana

12
Niall’s P.O.V.
When all the fans finally cleared out, Diana was nowhere to be seen. I spun in a few circles looking for her and noticed her coming out from the cornfield. She must have slipped away when the fans were focused on me. I chuckled as I walked towards her. As I was about to call out a greeting I noted someone following her at a bit of a distance. Diana seemed to know he was there. He was tall and wearing all black. Not nice funeral black, but more like a biker gang would wear. Oh, no, I thought, what did he do to her? I jogged over to meet them. Before I could say a word, Diana spoke saying his name was Marcus and he was a family friend. She’d be going over to his house for the evening. She said it all before Marcus was in earshot. When he got close enough to hear us, her face flushed. Without another word, she turned and followed Marcus to his car.
Diana wasn’t acting like, well, Diana. That wasn’t like her at all. She would have called to me that she was going to his house and invited me. I felt a bit hurt until I realized there must have been a reason why she wasn’t acting like herself. I waited until I was almost out of sight of the moving car, and then ran after it. Almost immediately I began to feel tired. But I pushed myself. If Diana could bike 200 miles to go to a concert I could run a few to make sure she was safe.

Diana’s P.O.V.
He kissed me. I was mortified. Niall was my boyfriend. But this guy, Marcus, had been my boyfriend before I’d lost my memory. And now he wanted to continue that. He kissed me. Marcus had just pressed his lips to mine. He didn’t know that I was with Niall. Niall didn’t know that I was with him. I didn’t know that I was with him! But I didn’t want to hurt Marcus or Niall. It felt wrong to lie to Niall, but I didn’t want him to think I was cheating on him. I made up something about Marcus being a family friend. I had to be sure to walk ahead of Marcus so he wouldn’t suspect or overhear what I was saying to Niall. But also close enough so he wouldn’t suspect. With all the care I took to do that, I forgot to make sure I didn’t act strange to Niall. I was pretty sure he could tell something was up.
Marcus and I got to his house alright. It was farther from the cemetery than I’d anticipated. Another surprise was that Marcus’s parents weren’t home as I’d assumed they would be.
He unlocked the door to the smallish, midsized house. It was fairly worn down and seemed to have some issues from neglect.
Marcus plopped down on the ratty couch and made it evident that I should do the same. I sat at the edge, still unsure. “C’mon babe,” he sighed, “If we’re gonna stay together after you leaving we’re gonna have to be like we were before.” I didn’t respond. Marcus put his muscular arm around me, “If you won’t start then I will.” With that he began snogging me. It didn’t feel right. I wasn’t meant to be there! I tried to pull away but he only deepened it and pushed me back against the arm of the couch. I pretended to enjoy it so he wouldn’t expect what I did next. As I let my hand wonder over the back of his head I yanked Marcus’s head back, by his hair. I whined out, “Stop!” I felt tears in my eyes. No one knew where I was. Why had I gone with Marcus? “Why?” He asked, with no sympathy. “I-“I couldn’t tell him I had a boyfriend. That would make him mad. “I-“I started again. “I’m sick,” I fathomed. He smiled, “No you aren’t. Babe, don’t you want things back how they were before? Back when we were happy together.” I bit my lip, “I don’t know. I don’t remember before. Can we, please, take it slow?” He creased his eyebrows together. Then, he slapped me. HE SLAPPED ME! Right across the face! No warning. Just a cold, hard, merciless slap! I lost any sympathy or respect I’d had for him. I jerked my head forward into his unexpecting face as I kicked upward with my knee. To my surprise and joy, both worked! He rolled away from, me nursing a bleeding nose and injured area between his legs. I ran into the kitchen to get away from him. I heard him get up as he called after me, “Get back here, Neala!” It wasn’t like Niall’s playful, ‘Come here, Diana!’ He’d called to me at the concert. It was cold and full of anger. It didn’t make me want to get back there anytime soon. I scanned the room for anything useful. There were knives on the opposite counter. I rushed over and grabbed one just before Marcus entered. He stormed towards me, fuming. I glanced at the knife I now possessed. The gleam of the blade brought back memories; dragging a blade through my own skin, warm blood seeping out onto my arm. I couldn’t hurt Marcus with the blade I held, not even in self-defense. My hesitation was perfectly timed for him to reach me and slap me across the face again, harder this time. I dropped the knife and cupped my cheek. My vision blurred with tears as I stumbled backwards into the counter. Marcus advanced towards me. Fear rippled through me, “Stay away from me!” I screamed. He paid to attention. I thought he was going to kill me, or hit me, or kiss me. But he surprised me. He spoke softly now, “Do you not want to do that? It’s okay. You just have to tell me. I know stuff has probably changed since last time. We’ll take it slow, okay? I’m sorry I lost my temper.” He hugged me. I wasn’t so sure he was for real or not. But I couldn’t do anything to him now. He was being so nice. I wanted to believe this was the real him and the other had been some awful dream. For the rest of the night he continued to treat me like a lady instead of a slave. I almost forgot about his bad side. By the time I returned to my cousins’ I believed this nice Marcus was the real Marcus.
Maybe I would have said something about how Marcus had treated me at first. But as soon as I walked in the door my aunt bombarded me with questions. Apparently Niall hadn’t come back yet. They were all worrying about us as the last time they’d see us we were being swarmed by fans. They’d gone back to the cemetery but we were gone already.
We called Niall using the number he’d given me when I was in the hospital. Ring ring “Please pick up,” I whispered as if Niall could hear me. Ring riing still no answer.

Niall’s P.O.V.
I lost sight of the car. I lost sight of it. I thought as I uncertainly came around yet another turn with no car in sight. Despair filled me. I didn’t know where Diana had gone with Marcus. I didn’t like him. Something about the way she was acting or just him was off-putting to me. I couldn’t pinpoint it though.
I spun 360 trying to figure out where I was. Corner of Oak Dr. and Builders’ Rd. That didn’t help at all. I had no idea where that was. I tried to retrace my steps but ended up even more lost.
In the gathering darkness, I stood under a streetlamp and pulled out my phone. “Siri, get directions to…” I trailed off. I didn’t know the address of the house I was staying at. “Sorry, I didn’t get that,” Siri’s response made me jump. My phone slipped out of my hand and clattered to the pavement. I stooped to pick it up. The bottom half of the screen was shattered. The rest was badly cracked. So much for Luck of the Irish I thought. I pressed the home button. Slide to Unlock But I couldn’t. The glass was uneven and sharp. I held the button, “Siri, map my current location.” Nothing happened. I repeated the request. Again, nothing happened. The impact must have damaged it more than I can see, I figured. I cursed myself for being so clumsy.
I wandered around, trying to find something I recognized. But I only became more misplaced. I sat down on the curb and tried to think. How long have I been walking? I had no idea.
I walked up to a nearby house to ask the time and directions to the cemetery. A middle-aged man opened the door and gave me a questioning look. “Hello, sir!” I greeted. “I’m a bit lost. Which way to the cemetery?” He looked suspicious as he asked, “And why do you need to go there?” He glanced behind me as if expecting to see a gang. “Well, I was at a funeral and I got separated from everyone else. If I could get there I could find my way back-“ But he cut me off by mumbling, “No good teens out to vandalize the graves at this hour,” and closing the door in my face. I should have asked the time first, I thought, as I descended the stairs. I hung my head in frustration and hopelessness.
The shuffling sound of feet made me snap back up. Before I could register what was happening, I was on the ground with a knife to my esophagus. “Don’t struggle or call for help or we’ll slit your throat!” Someone from above me barked. Not only was I lost. I was lost in a bad part of town. “Slowly get to your knees and hand over anything valuable!” The person snarled. Good, I thought, they mustn’t know who I am. I tried to take in as much of my surroundings as I could from my position. There was someone on my back, holding me down and brandishing the knife. There were two sets of feet, one in front of me and one at my right side. As I got to my knees I twisted my hands around a bit to feel how I was being held down. The attacker had one hand around my wrists, with a stronger grip on my right hand than my left. Knowing that my stronger hand was somewhat free was nice to know. But I still had a knife to my gullet. They released my left hand so I could empty my pockets. As I pulled out my wallet I felt the arm of my attacker slack a bit; just what I was waiting for. I ducked down and slipped from his grasp, kicking my legs to free them too. They all yelled and the one who was on top of me slashed with his knife at anything he could reach. Sharp pain filled my shoulder as he struck me. I rolled away and tried to run but another held me. He fell to the ground as I landed a punch in his stomach. The third one hesitated so I ran away as fast as I could.
I ran until I couldn’t run anymore. I collapsed onto a curb. I had no idea how long I’d been running. I slid my shattered phone out of my pocket to find the broken uneven glass been cutting into my thigh. It wasn’t bleeding too much so I tried to ignore it as best I could. I turned on my phone expecting it to be around 8 or 9. But it was 10:06pm. I gaped at the spent screen with a stadium full of Directioners in the background. I’d been lost much longer than I’d anticipated. I almost dropped the phone for the second time that night when it began to vibrate because of an incoming call. But luckily I was able to catch it against my chest. I didn’t have the number in my contacts but it had the same first three digits as the police station Neala and I had called. So it was in the area. The phone continued to vibrate as I sliced my thumb in an attempt to answer. I stuck the injured part in my mouth. I tried, vainly, to answer by sliding three more times. “Siri, answer it!” I tried in a final attempt. Nothing happened. Whoever was calling hung up.

Notes