Nobody Cares. (One Direction Fan Fiction)

Lowest Point

Author's Note

Please listen to a song called 'Everybody Hurts' by R.E.M. when I say so. You can listen to either the original by R.E.M. or the Glee Cast version I prefer the Glee Cast version, but it's your choice.

{Belle's POV}

It's like the world is frozen around me. All I here is my heart beat pounding in my ear drums. The tears fell down my cheeks. I didn't even bother wiping them away.

This can't be true. Scott is alive. He's probably watching TV or playing outside right now. He's not dead, he's alive.

"He's alive. Not dead." I whispered loud enough so the boys could hear me. My vision blurred from the tears. All I could make out was my hand that Zayn is holding onto tightly. Tears dripped on them making them wet, but I didn't mind. "Belle, his funeral is tomorrow. We booked a flight for tonight." Zayn said softly, wiping away some of my tears.

For the first time in two days I looked Zayn in the eyes. His eyes filled with tears and a sad smile grew on his lips. "It's all my fault. If- if I didn't try and kill myself Scott would be alive. He never would've gone to Albany. He'd be alive. It's all my fault." I admitted, realizing the obvious.

If I would've sucked it up and took the beatings Scott would be alive. I might not of met the boys but Scott would be alive. He'd be perfectly fine. He'd be playing outside completely naïve about the abuse I got. It's all my fault.

Zayn's smile faded as he shook his head. "Don't think that. It's not your fault because of the drunk guy that caused the accident." He used his other hand to brush back a piece of my hair. I bit my bottom lip and shook my head. It is my fault.

"Attempting to commit suicide might of been bad, but getting away from somewhere unsafe was good. Scott could've gotten abused to later on. You telling the police that your mum was abusing you was a good thing. You two got out of there, that's good. The accident wasn't your fault." Harry assured me, trying to make eye contact. But I wouldn't. I'm not as mad about the whole 'Cole thing' but I could barely even listen to what he was saying.

(Play it now.)

My hear beat filled my ears as if someone was banging a bass drum inside my head. The tears continued to flow down my cheeks like a river. My body started to shake from the uncontrollable sobs that I'm holding in. It's getting bad.

Just like when I cut for the first time.

The familiar urge ran through my body. The same emotions sped through my veins, begging for me to slice my skin so the warm blood could trickle down my skin.

I need it.

I stood up from my spot on the couch and walked out of the room. None of the boys said anything. Probably thinking I just needed time and my space. That's true, but with a different meaning.

I need time to cut. I need space to so I can do it in peace. To let my whimpers fill the empty bathroom.

My feet carried me upstairs to my room. When I reached the top I wasn't out of breath, I took my time climbing up the stairs. To make sure the boys didn't suspect anything.

The tile flooring padded against my sneakers as I made my way towards the shower where I kept my razor. With a shaking hand I grabbed the plastic device and placed it on my wrist.

Everything seemed to hit me like a brick wall at that moment.

I don't know if my father is alive or not.

My older sister is six feet under.

My mother abused me.

My grandparents don't like me.