Under my skin

Chapter 19 - Words cut. Literally.

*Author’s note*

OVER 175O READS. 

you guys are all sooooo amazing, thank you! and thank you to everyone who reads my story, love you all!!! <3

so tired, stayed up to 11 for you :) and it's a school night hahaha

xo juls 

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Chapter 18 - @Julia_Golafshan (twitter)

The next day went past in a blur – everything went by in a daze.

I couldn’t stop myself from reading those hateful messages people were writing about me, and I kept looking at them.

I’m usually the type of person who doesn’t get easily influenced by what people think of me, but when people send you thousands of messages every day, it gets hard to ignore.

I sat eating breakfast, reading through the lists of hate with a blank face, my mind scanning the words over and over and over.

fat

useless

ugly

pathetic

nobody

loser

bitch

evil

slut

shit

worthless

manipulator

liar

The words pounded in my head, over and over again, until my mind was almost chanting the words.

I couldn’t take much more of it, I felt so close to breaking, so close to… crying.

I couldn’t cry, I wouldn’t let myself become that weak, that vulnerable – I had to stop these feelings before I weakened.

Running upstairs, I went into my bathroom, found the razor, and sliced into my skin with the cold, sharp metal five times on each arm.

Straight away I felt better, and I knew I wasn’t going to break down in tears; I am stronger than that.

I wiped the blood off the floor, and put band-aids on my arms.

I made a mental note to go the shops and buy some more later, I was nearly finished my packet.

I headed back downstairs, and not long after I left to go to school. I kept thinking about the names that they called me – I wasn’t using the boys for money, or fame!

 Yet thousands of girls seemed to think I was – either that, or that I was some skank not worth their attention.

Maybe they were right; maybe I should stay away from the boys until they left England, then they would leave and forget all about me.

Eugh. My emotions are so messed up, I feel torn between the friendship that we just started to develop, and the obvious feelings of anger that their fans had against me.

What’s with that anyway? Aren’t fans supposed to be super supportive and nice?

Guess not.

I got to school, making sure I was not too early, and I went to my first class. From then, I zoned out, and my whole day went by without me being really alert or aware at all – just as if I were asleep.

A few people asked me about the boys, and I gave them vague answers, not really listening, or wanting to hear them.

If I really tried hard enough, maybe I could forget one direction and how close we were getting. After all, I’m only some ordinary girl – one minute you see me, the next you forget me.

There I go though, getting carried away in my depressing thoughts and feeling sorry for myself.

As soon as school was over, I headed straight to the shops to get groceries and to stock up on food.

 It usually doesn’t take me that long, but before I knew it, I was surrounded by five girls, all looking at me quite awkwardly.  

“Can I help you?” I asked, wondering what on earth they were doing.

“Are you Ivy? One direction’s new pet?” one girl asked, smirking at me with a horrible smile.

“Uhh… no, sorry to disappoint. Don’t you like her though?” All five girls shook their heads, and I frowned a little.

“What’s so bad about her though? What has she done?”

The girls went on and on, babbling about how ‘Ivy is so weird, she dresses like she was born in the 50’s,” and how “She’s such a loser that she has to pretend one direction is her friend so she can be popular.”

I felt sick to the stomach, and nodding to them, I left to go get the band-aids, the last thing on my list.

I paid and left the shopping center, still thinking about those girls, and to help take my mind off it, I took my phone and texted dad while I sat in the parking lot: brought groceries for the week x

Of course, I had a few missed calls and unread messages.

As I looked through the list, I saw that they were from Harry and Niall. Oh, Niall.

Cute, charming, caring and beautiful. He was the perfect combination… what a pity that I could never even dream of dating him.

The drive home was slow, but I listened to some classical music – don’t laugh, it soothes me when I’m sad or angry – and eventually I got back home.

I put the groceries away, and then sat down on the couch, literally putting my feet up. It felt amazing to just rest and relax… no boy drama, no over-obsessed fangirls, just me.

Then I heard a knock on the door. All I could think was ‘ARE YOU SERIOUS?’ Somehow though, I managed to get up and look outside, crap.

It was Harry.

“Hey, how are you Ivy?” He stood in the doorway standing and looking at me, and I looked back.

“So… are you going to let me in?” He finally asked, and I agreed reluctantly.

This is not a good idea if I want to forget about them.

“Why not? Can’t be any worse, can it?” I said, as I opened the door to let him come through.

Straight away he looked at me, tilting my chin bac’kwards and looking at me in they eyes.

“Ivy? Okay, tell me EXACTLY what happened love!”

“It doesn’t matter anymore… tea or coffee?” I asked him as we walked towards the lounge room.

“Don’t change the subject Ivy. I want to know what’s wrong and why! But before you tell me, I kind of have to go to the bathroom really badly…. Sorry!”

He sounded so embarrassed that I almost felt sorry for him.

I told him where my bathroom was and he went upstairs as I put the kettle on.

I had just boiled the kettle when I heard his voice, angry, yet concerned.

“I want you to explain to me right now why there is blood on the floor of your bathroom – explain it to me right now; what have you been doing Ivy?!”