(MOMENTARILY ON HOLD) The Other Girl (Harry Styles)

Chapter Ten

Hola, guys :) Thanks for all the votes and comments, keep it up!

So, no more waiting! Sorry I took so long to update, I’ve been very busy. Now, I know Harry’s being a git and this story is very ‘twisted’ (the words of @jackieoros25613, not mine, although they are very fitting) but I’m very weird and that’s the way I like it. ;P So I’m very sorry if this story is too unrealistic or too twisted or too upsetting for you, but that’s the way it is. Hope that the next few chapters won’t be too horrible... crossing my fingers! Dedications to @YassmineEssmat (Happy belated birthday :D) and @iceprincessXX (your comment was so nice!)

- CeCe x

P.S. Follow me on Twitter @CeannaJay and find me on YouTube (Ceanna Jay)! Oh and we finally put up our YouTube channel, we’ll be putting up a video today or tomorrow so please subscribe. Find us by searching ‘ThisYesterdayDuo’ on YouTube. Thanks so much! The external link will lead you to This Yesterday's first video, a cover of Safe and Sound. Hope you enjoy! Mulltimedia on the side is a cover made by @Peachykeen_Jellybean thanks so much for that btw I love it! Who knows, I may be using it!

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London’s POV

I don’t get how he could hate me – just because I’m a little different. Just because I used to have anorexia. Just because I suffer from mild depression. How does that make sense? I honestly believed, for a second, that he was different to everyone else. I hoped that he might not judge me based on my background... so much for that.

I feel a deep pain in my stomach, as if I’m going to throw up. But it’s not that, I know. It’s the pain of sadness, knotting my heart and piercing my insides. It’s also the pain of disappointment. But I’m used to that. Feels like when I finally decide to trust someone, they end up disappointing me. Chloe. Niall. Harry.

I stare at the full-length mirror near my desk. Is it because I’m fat? I’m getting fat, that must be it. I knew it. I should diet. Maybe if I get skinnier Harry will like me again. At least I’m getting somewhere. I’ll start dieting again, and I’ll lose weight quickly and easily.

But the pain is still too strong, choking me, overwhelming me. I have to distract myself with a physical pain. I dig around in my drawers and find an old, rusted Swiss knife probably crawling with germs. Whatever. It’s the closest, sharpest thing around.

I raise the Swiss knife, flicking it open, and squeeze my eyes shut as tears begin to fall out of my eyes. Then I start making deep, jagged cuts along my arm.

It hurts, but it’s better than the sadness hurt.

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“London! London, are you home? I’m here for our study session...”

Ah, shit. The HSCs are about to start, I forgot. I try to move but I’m exhausted. I slump down, pull the blankets tighter around me, and stare at Sydney as she trudges into my room.

The look that enters her eyes makes me wonder just how horrible I seem. A mixture of horror, shock, and anger flickers in her grey irises, and she approaches me with one long step. Gripping my arm and glaring down at me, she demands, “London, what are you doing to yourself?”

I can’t even answer. I’m that tired. My throat feels hot and dry.

Sydney’s voice softens. “Don’t do this, London, you – London, are you cutting yourself?” The last words are whispered in terror, and her eyes move to the Swiss army knife by my bed, bronze with rust and red with blood.