Ugly, fat, worthless, waste of space ....
All these words repeated in my heard . Round and around ... I sat on the tile floor on my bathroom. Tears streamed down my face like rivers. I clawed at my skin until hints of blood appeared. I grabbed a small blade and ran it over my smooth red skin pressing harder and harder. Blood oozed out of the cuts dripping all on the floor. So much pain yet so much pleasure. So young yet so damaged. In the thirteen years of my life i managed to hate every inch of me. Inside and out. Nothing worked to help, besides cutting. The way the cold sharp blade felt as blood poured more and more out when the pressure of my hand increased. That sharp pain when you first press on the skin is what gives me the most satisfaction. Pain is my drug, my only goal in life. My best friend. I continued to watch the blood flood out my open wounds as I rippled the blade onto my skin. Each one had a name. The first six were all about my weight, then i lost track. I left them to bleed freely for many moments until i bandaged them up and covered them away .
The sound of jingling ringed in my ear. The front door swooped open. "SAMANTHA I'M HOME!" I ran down stairs and quickly greeted my mother. She was in her typical work outfit, black pants and a white tee shirt. Most of her life she was a waitress and she remains one until today. I watched her do her regular things until I eventually got tired of waiting for her to look at me. Not much talking goes on in this house. Just a bunch of silence. After i had enough, I headed upstairs. With each step i took the steps creaked and creaked. Once I was at my destination, I locked my room and headed towards the radio. Its always hard looking for the right radio station. After moments of turning the knob, a song came on...
Your hand fits in mine like its made just for me, but bear this in mind it was meant to be. And im joining up the dots with the freckles on your cheaks and it all makes sense to me.
I lyed cold on the bed tracing each and everyone of my scars. They felt scratchy under my touch. Each and everyone of these scars had a reason. A purpose of why they rested on my skin. No one has ever really been in my life to tell me better. I know its wrong but I can't help it. Its my only hope. No one loves me, and no one ever will....
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Okay so this is chapter one to my fanfic !!!! Im sorry if this chapter is short. I really wanted this up! Its not the best thing but I promise it will get better! OH and im am SUPER sorry if it was just a little triggering. This just goes so well... But yes she is 13 . One direction doesnt really exist in this story. But the song does.. This member is just a regular guy. Please read this fanfic ! C'mon dont be shyyyy i know you want to! Well keep reading! oh and yeahh i used my own name.. sorry.. Tell your friends guys .
-Samiluvs1D
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ILLEGAL LOVE
Fanfiction*HARRY STYLES FANFICTION * Out of my 13 years of living not once have i felt wanted or appreciated by anyone. No matter where i turn i always hit a dead end. Not one person wants me. No one. Not at school, not at home, not anywhere. I just want to m...
