A/N: I've had my moments when it was possibly called being bullied. Whatever it was called, it really hurt me.
When I was in 5th grade, I had only one friend and she was going to Australia on vacation during the school year. So, I had no one to sit with. I felt embarrassed looking weird sitting alone, so I went to her other 2 friends. I asked them if I could sit with them and for some reason, they told me they didn't want to sit with me. So, when I went to sit down with them, they moved to a different table. I remember getting in the lunch line with tears in my eyes and the lunch lady had asked me if I was ok. The 2 girls eventually let me sit with them, but they wouldn't talk to me. 1 of the 2 girls always called me a brat, ugly, and an elephant (:/), because I 'took her best friend away from her'.
Some people don't always have perfect lives ya know. Elementary school was hard for me because I was too shy and weird to make friends ... :(
"Why don't they like me?" I whispered to myself, staring down at the razor in my left hand. My mind replayed that one meet and greet today. I was about to hug her, when she simply turned away and hugged the rest of the lads. The worst part that hurt, she asked if I couldn't be in the picture. I don't understand what I ever did to her.
I'm just like the rest of the lads. Is it because I'm Irish? Is it because I don't have the looks? Am I not good enough? A tear ran down my cheek as I slid the razor across my wrist.
Is this how they want it to affect me? Do they know how much it really hurts? I threw my head back, clenching my eyes shut. I bit on my tongue to keep from making any noises so the lads wouldn't get suspicious. I suddenly heard a knock followed by a familiar voice belonging to Harry, "Are you ok in there, Niall?" My heart beat increased as I tried to look for the right words.
"I-I'm good, Harry. I'll be out in a sec." I poorly answered.
"Ok. Come quick, mate. Everyone's waiting." I soon heard his footsteps fade away. I watched the blood run down my arm. I scrambled to my feet and grabbed the towel on the counter. I placed the towel on top of the cut and tried to stop it. After a while, it stopped and I sighed.
I tried to get the blood out of the towel. It was no use so, I threw it away. I slid my bracelets onto my wrist and pulled my sleeve down. Looking in the mirror, I pulled a disgusting face before unlocking the door and walking out. "There you are, Neil!" Louis used his nickname for me.
He walked over to me and draped his arm over my shoulder. "Let's get going!" He announced, dragging me out of the house and towards the silver car. Today, we were being interviewed in a little studio. We approached our destination and I could hear the screaming already. Stepping out of the vehicle, more screams erupted.
We quickly walked inside the building and got right to the interview.
"How do you handle the hate?" One random question sent me questioning my own self. Why do you handle the hate the way you do? It's a wrong way to handle it. But, they don't know that. No one knows what I emotionally go through.
I'm a wreck.
"Niall," The sound of my name snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked around, noticing everyone was staring at me, waiting for an answer.
"Oh, um . . . I usually just ignore them," The lie easily rolling off my tongue as I shrugged. The interviewer nodded and asked the next question. I sat there, letting the boys answer all the questions as I pretended to know what they were saying. Occasionally nodding in agreement; but, my mind was out of place.
I could already see myself reading the brand new package of hateful tweets. "Well, it was a pleasure having you boys in the studio! I hope you can come back soon!" The interviewer finished off as the lads shared a few nice compliments to her. The camera stopped rolling and everyone stood up. I followed the lads out of the studio, hearing the familiar screams. Once we got inside the car, Harry glanced at me.
"Niall, are you sure you're ok? You barely spoke through the whole interview."
"I'm fine, Harry," I reassured him. I hate lying to my best friends; my brothers. He slowly nodded before looking out the window. The rest of the ride was filled with silence.
"You usually asked for food after an interview, or a concert," Zayn broke the silence. I shrugged, "I'm just not feeling good today." I mumbled, hoping they would quit the barely what you would call, interrogation. Thankfully, they did and I sighed a glad sigh. As soon as we got back to the house, I walked inside and up the stairs, towards my room. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and plugged my headphones in.
I picked the song I always replay over and over again. If I Die Young by The Band Perry played in the headphones as I turned up the volume. Closing my eyes while laying on my bed, somehow made me relaxed. Until, my mind reminded me of the new hate on twitter.
YOU ARE READING
Millions of Directioners—Niall girls think they know everything about their idol, Niall Horan. Little do they know, he doesn't handle hate like any usual celebrity. He feels lonely, he feels depressed, he feels the need to hurt himself, he feels the...