Tic tac

Tic tac.

Tic tac.

Tic tac.

The unbearable sound of the ugly, old clock is awful, making Niall want to rip it right of the wall and slam it against the coffee table until it won't be able to make a single sound anymore.

But he won't. He will control himself and leave the clock alone, he has to. He can't make the same mistake as he did last time, when he broke his washing machine, just because it made the floor shake a little. 

The clock has bothered him since he can remember, but he never succeeded in taking it down. And every time when he's tired, anxious or sad, the clock really seems to get on his nerves. 

Tic tac.

The ticking continues. He takes a deep breath and tries to ignore it by turning the volume of the television up. The talking of the people on the small screen seem to drown the ticking noice out, but Niall just knows that the clock is still ticking. It's stuck inside his head and it's driving him insane. 

He has to do something about it. He can't just sit here, watching television while the clock is still ticking. It needs to stop, one way or another. 

And before he knows it, he doesn't feel the soft sofa against his butt anymore. His feet take him to the clock and make him stop in front of it. The clock isn't aware of any harm and happily keeps ticking.

Tic tac.

Tic tac.

Tic-

With one, big punch, the clock falls down and splatters in hundreds, maybe thousands little pieces. 

His knuckles bleeding, the antique clock that he got from his grandmother a few hours before she passed away is scattered all over the wooden floor and the loud television is the only noise left in the room.

Just another day in the life of Niall Horan.