Perfectly Fake ~ Niall Horan Story

twenty

L I L L I A N N A

"And don't even think about it," I state, holding my position until I hear the director yell cut.

"That's a wrap on that scene guys," I hear the production assistant yell from the sound booth and I instantly feel relief as I am completely exhausted.

I back away from Alex, turning my head away from him but I can feel his eyes continuously glaring at me.

I attempt to cover myself up but without Niall's jacket I feel completely insecure and all I want right now is to go home and put my pyjamas on. The fluffier the better.

"Lillianna, Alex I need a word with you both," Stefan, the director, demands and I immediately begin to feel nervous.

"I am getting no chemistry from you two at all! None! I mean didn't you guys go on a couple of dates before filming?" He asks as he runs his hands through his thin hair, clearly frustrated.

"He wishes," I mumble to myself but Alex's piercing glare makes me wonder if he heard me.

"We will sort it out," Alex states as he changes his shirt, his eyes never moving off of me.

"You better," Stefan scoffs before marching away towards the prop table.

As I begin to walk away from Alex towards my dressing room I feel a sharp pain travel up my arm and I realise that Alex is grabbing me tightly by the wrist.

"Alex what the-"

"What the fuck do you think you are doing embarrassing me like that in front of a professional director?" He asks demandingly, tightening his grasp around my wrist making me slightly yelp in pain.

"I don't know what you mean," I say truthfully, my voice full of pain as he fastens his grip around my wrist and forcefully pulls me towards him.

"Don't bullshit me Lillianna, you think you're so clever with all of your remarks and having the audacity to bring Niall to set," he whispers menacingly in my ear as I shift uncomfortably in his embrace.

"I didn't know he was coming," I admit, my voice becoming frail as the pain continues to travel through my wrist.

"Bullshit," he yells as he forcefully pushes me away from him, letting go of my already bruised wrist.

I look around for help but I realise that nobody is on the same side of the soundstage as us and will even notice or hear what is happening. I'm alone.

I'm alone with him.

I desperately hold my wrist in order to ease the burning pain and as I quickly run to my dressing room I realise that he is following me.

Before I can lock the door he barges through, his force and strength pushing me back until I land forcefully on the floor of the dressing room.

He locks the dressing room door and instantly my heart drops.

As I struggle to pull myself off of the floor I see him smirk as he begins to ruthlessly kick my stomach until I feel all of the air slowly being squeezed out of my body.