2. Why Me?

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A/N: Hello again! 

WARNING: CONTAINS SELF-HARMING & OFFENSIVE LANGUAGE 

YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

***And before you ask or assume, this does not pertain to any real life experiences, I don't do any of what is depicted in this story. I do have a few friends I had to help because they were severely bullied, but are recovering, and I couldn't be more prouder of them.***

Song Featured: Perfect by P!nk 

Now, proceed onward to reading!

~Hunter xx.

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Louis POV

After Harry dropped me off, we argued for a long time. He wanted to come in and spend the rest of the afternoon with me, but my mom was home. He didn’t need to see what my home life is like. It was a good thing though because as soon as I walked in through the door, all hell broke loose.

I slowly opened it up to be met with a pissed off drunken women I like to call my mother, well not really but you get the point.

“Where the fuck have you been all day!” She screamed loud enough for the neighbors to hear. But they don’t care, no one does.

“School, I’m only 16, I need to learn sometime.” I was walking past her to go up to my room.

“No, I want you to drop out. I’m not paying for your education you fucking faggot!” That one hurt a lot; she never called me that before. She only ever called me queer or fairy, those weren’t as bad as faggot. A tear fell from my eye and I ran up the stairs before she saw me with tears down my face.

“YOU BETTER NOT BE CRYING UP THERE YOU FREAK OF NATURE!” She yelled before I heard the door slam and the house shack from it.

I was full on sobbing right now; I was up against the door with my head in my knees. I really can’t take it anymore, I need…I need. I grip my hair and pull it tightly letting out a loud scream. I really hope someone can save me now.

After crying on the floor, I put my head up and lean it back against the door. Something shimmers in the light of the bathroom and I turn my head to spot the thing that I have been dreading to use for the past few days. I fiddle around with my bracelets, and move them to see the cuts that have now just scabbed over. I run my fingers over the old bumpy, somewhat faded scars and sigh quite loudly. I really shouldn’t but I can’t resist it, it’s the only way that helps me get through the pain.

I slowly get up; my legs feel like jelly from sitting on the ground for quite some time. I make my way to the bathroom and grab my only release. I sit cross-legged on the floor, and fiddle with the blade in my fingers. My mind goes back to when I first did it.

3 years ago…

No one likes me.

I’m a lonely freak.

No one even wants me.

My parents didn’t like me.

My adoptive parents make me believe they like me when I know it is just an act.

I was full on sobbing when I got home, the kids at school just don’t know when to stop. They just keep it up, waiting for the day I break. And I guess today was the day. They were calling me every name in the book, shoving me into the lockers, everything you can think of that a bully would do, they did.

Sincerely Yours, C- Larry AUWhere stories live. Discover now