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SLOW HANDS

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Cover Pic for single Slow Hands by Niall Horan* * *


'HELP! HELP! LET ME GO!' Niall was crying repeatedly during the night, but no sound was released from his mouth, it was only inside of his head. He was too scared to shout out aloud.

'I WANT TO GO HOME! TO MY MUMMY! TO MY CLEAN AND NEAT BED! PLEASE! LET ME GO!' that was it, that was what he have been thinking all the time, but self consciousness didn’t allow him to say that.

'HELP! SAVE ME! OH, GOOD LORD! WHERE AM I? TAKE ME AWAY FROM HERE!' thoughts like that rushed trough Niall's head again and again, as he writhing in the hands of the stranger.
In the very persistent and very-very slow hands...
Person, who took Niall home, wanted to take time for own pleasure...

'OH! WHEN WILL THIS ENTIRE NIGHTMARE BE OVER!? IT’S GONNA BE OVER SONNER OR LATER, RIGHT?' Niall asked himself, 'HOW COME I ENDED UP IN THIS SHITTY SITUATION? MY MUM HAS ALWAYS TOLD I SHOULDN’T TRUST STRANGERS! WHY HADN’T I LISTEN TO MY MUM?'

And then, in the early cold April morning, Niall ran out of the house of C. wearing only trousers and some dirty t-shirt, which was what he could grab first. He even forgot to take on his underwear! Only one thing he wanted was: run away! As fast as he could! He was impatient to take off sweat-soaked t-shirt and to throw it away, but the cold air sneaking under the tissue reminded him of the cold hands of the stranger again. So Niall, hurrying to get to his house, ran and ran, and the trees, still naked and leafless, still brown, covered in fog and scarcely warmed by the rays of the sun, which suffering from the hangover, was lazily scrambling out of the horizon. It was late April and whole country was green and blossoming, but here trees seemed to be dead, as if that was some cursed place… Those wooden giants were reaching out to him with their bare branches, as if they wanted to touch him… And constrict him in their cold lifeless hands...

Slow hands...
Slowly stretching…
… reaching to………. Him…
… and sprouting fingers through the skin ...
claws digging into the flesh ...

No! No! Never! Never again!

Not only won’t Niall never ever go with strangers from the bar to their houses, but he will not even set his foot in that notorious pub and even that part of the city again!

Moreover, he not only won’t have sex with strangers anymore. He will never ever have sex again!
Like at all! With no one!

Oh... those slow hands...


* * *


Niall continued to run, thoughtlessly, endlessly, without any purpose... wherever his feet took him... he was running and running to nowhere... away from here...
Every night after that day, he wake up, gasping, feeling that he was running again and again, all over the same neglected forest road...stumbling over the stones… feared up as fuck...
Sweat was dripping down his back like... you know... the same slow hands as usual, with their cold fingertips... And all the scenery in front of his eyes was blurry like it was in that unforgettable morning and the whole surroundings seemed to him a grim conglomeration of obscure brown and dark-grayish-green spots! And the trees were once again pulling out their hand-branches to him...

'God! How can I stop this? Maybe I should see a doctor?!' That was an Idea! Probably Niall should go to doctor and ask for help.

His doctor advised him to take a deep breath and embrace his nature.


His father said he should be strong and brave and he will support his son in any situation.


His mother said it would be better for him if he maintain relationships on regular basis with someone who is sensible [more or least, she wasn't too naive], who is kind and modest, who will not only use Niall for his benefit but will care for him and will not only will take from him but give to him too.

 * * *


That was a year. And Niall got used to it by now.
But sometimes when the details of that night flash in his memory he still feels shivers rushing up and down through his spine...