Casual Encounters (Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

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Thalia's POV

I snake my wet arms around my skinny waist. My teeth chatter as the cold penetrates my body through my thin pajamas. I was apparently to exhilarated from escaping that I forgot it was winter.

I didn't think out my escape very well as I am only wearing pajamas and no shoes. The rain stopped a while ago, leaving me damp, and shivering.

I don't actually know where I'm headed. It just felt so good to run and not have to stop.

I quickly scurry along another back alley, keeping close to the wall. I peak around the corner and see a big stadium advertising some concert. Some band called One Direction is playing. Hmm, I've never heard of them.

I hadn't gotten a lot of time to explore the music industry seeing as I didn't have a phone. All I did all day was read, and let myself escape into the stories.

Something I hadn't told anyone was that I actually love music. I love singing and at one of my foster parents houses my foster sister had taught me to play piano. That was my favorite house I'd been in.

I move to the other side of the street to avoid the people leaving the venue. My wet hair hangs limply on my shoulders like ice. I envy all of those girls with their big huge jackets.

I'm getting tired, I guess my insomnia is catching up with me.

I sit on the curb, being careful to stay a good distance away from a big black car parked outside.

The cold metal of the pistol digs into my hipbones, forming a bruise. It's not like I can take the gun out and carry it.

My fingers reach up to touch the shiny metal. I find myself thinking about death like I so often do.

Who would miss me if I died? At least before I knew Jack would be a little sad, or at least affected, but who would miss me now?

I tried to think of any possibilities but came up with none. I'm so tired, I thought. Maybe I'm just tired of life. Of living.

I've been so alone for so long and its never gotten better or easier and I don't think it ever will.

My life has finally caught up to me. I never dwelled on the past, I just put on a fake smile and pretended everything was ok. It's not ok, and that will never change.

I didn't have a razor to cure the ache in the pit of my stomach this time.

I slowly brought the gun out, laying it on my lap. I thought of the bliss I'd have if I were dead. No more being alone. No more pain. No more memories.

The memories were the worst. Not just the bad memories, the slaps, the hits, the abuse, the accidents, but also the good memories. My mother's smile that I'd never see again. My Father's laugh that I'd never hear again. Harry, who would never find me.

I'm so pathetic. Sitting on a curb, with no where to go. I have nothing. Nothing to live for, and no possessions. Hell, I don't even have shoes.

I unconsciously brought the gun up to eye level, admiring such I little thing that did such big damage.

For once in the past year, I let the tears fall. I cried over my terrible life and my terrible situation. I cried for every time a man's forced himself on me. I cried for every slap and punch I'd recieved. I cried for every meaningless promise that had been said to me. I cried for every time I wasn't strong enough to kill myself. I just cried my heart out.

I wasn't afraid of death. No, I'm more afraid of life.

I rested the gun on my temple, teasing the trigger.