I know that Im not as good as everyone else.
Too fat, too tall, not intelligent, ugly. Not worth anything.
At night, I hide under my covers and just shake from anxiety for having an exam, being out with people, or but most of all, loosing Harry again.
My psychiciatrist told me that I suffer from anxiety that eats me from the insides out, and that doing activities will keep me from getting depressed.I have always wanted to participate in everything I could to try to stand out, but it turns out nothing helped.
Chorus, orchestra, language, advanced classes, volleyball. it got to me. I couldn't handle it.
Surprisingly, I have only cut once in my life, but that was enough to turn my world around.
I had always heard so much drama about cutting in school and from my friends or on the news, so that was the reason I chose to cut. I was completely oblivious to the many other forms of self harm. But most people cut for attention in my opinion, until I did it myself.
It was a nose-bitingly cold day, I remember, and I had already been through school, choir, band, volleyball, and not to mention hours of homework on top of that. I had to have some sort of release. I just couldn't find a better way to think.
I took a clean razor from the top of my perfume shelf and raced off to the bathroom. I only had minutes before Harry came to pick me up for our date.
Staring at the face in the reflection, I let all of my anger and hate flow into the work of my hand. I knew I should be able to conceal it so wrists were out of the question. Hips maybe, I thought, but then I realized: "What is the place on my body I'm most insecure?"
Inner thighs, definitely, without a doubt.
I held the smooth razor in my shaking hand. I wasn't nervous, in fact I was more than confident in my choice. I was just so angry.
I took one last look in the mirror and pressed the cold metal to my thigh, swiping it across my smooth pale skin. Once, twice, three times I sliced my pale skin.
I wouldn't have even felt the pain if it wasn't for the amount of blood gushing from the wound.
"Oh shit!" I swore, pressing my hand to the cut.
I had it all wrapped up in about 3 minutes, generously spraying antibacterial spray, although it hurt like hell times a hundred thousand.
I carefully ripped the packaging off of an extra large bandaid and gently placed it over the pink stained skin.
All of a sudden the doorbell rang, startling me so much that I almost cut my hand with the rasor. I slid downstairs, weary of slicing open the wound again.
"Hey," Harry said, stepping inside the house. Little white snowflakes rimmed his hair from the small flurries of snow outside, making him look like an angel.
"Hiya there, Im almost ready" I hurried to get my purse up in my room. I winced as the bandaged area was roughly pulled while I skipped up the stairs.
"Whats this?" Harry asked, rummaging around in my room like usual.
"Ugh, give me those," I snatched my lace underwear from his hands.
"I'd like to see you in those sometime" Harry snickered stepping over to my bed. "Why dong we just stay here tonight?" He said, completely serious.
"Sure, whatever you want babe," I said, leaping onto the bed.
He wrapped his strong warm arms around my torso. I melded completely into his touch, until I realized what he was trying to do.
"Oh no you dont!" Harry yelled as I tried to wriggle free of his grasp.
I started giggling really loud now.
"Stop, Hhhharry, STOP!" I pleaded laughing really hard now.
"No, now you're mine" he playfully snarled, planting wet sloppy kisses all over my neck.
By this time he had gotten his legs around my body, his airplane necklace dangling between us.
"Ahhh Harrrrrryy sttttopppp!" His fingers tickling my sides. I twisted and squirmed but there was no way to escape his grasp.
He worked his way down my stomach to my thighs when I felt him brush over the bandaged wound, and I winced.
"Whats wrong?" Harry immediately noticed my change in expression.
"Im fine, dont worry," I assured him, but I wasn't really that sure myself. It probably already started bruising.
"No, whats wrong, I'll stop." He slid over to my side.
"N-nothing," I stuttered. It couldn't have been more obvious to a monkey that I was hiding something from him.
"Did I scrape you, or a cut, or..." He trailed off. "Did you... Did you cut yourself?" He whispered in a voice barely audible.
"Harry don't be mad, I just needed to clear my hea-"
"Why?" He cut me off, hurt very evident in his voice.
"I-I'm sorry." I suddenly felt very exposed. I curled onto my side, so that I couldn't see his face anymore.
He snuggled into my neck, kissing up to my cheek.
After minutes of lying by his side, he mustered up a few words.
"Cutting's a nasty habit, if I might say so myself."
"I didn't know... what else to do," I explained.
"Neither do I," He wispered to no one in pertictular.
"Harry," I paused, scared that I might loose him again, "do you love me?"
There was a long silence between the two of us. I rolled over on my side to look at his brilliant emerald eyes.
"Yes." He confidently said, a tear slipping past his cheek. "I've been waiting snd waiting, but no one has ever made me feel so alive. I feel infinant with you."
I snuggled closer to him and wispered,"I love you more, Harrold Edward Styles."
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Feel Again (A Larry Stylinson Fanfic)Fanfiction
This is the story of Harry Styles and Desiree Gold. Harry and Desiree were inseparable. Even his best friend Louis Tomlinson couldn't compete. Des believed that she could change Harry's past. Harry drinks. Harry cuts. Harry parties. Harry sleeps wit...