Only The Brave {A Louis Tomlinson Fanfiction}

Chapter One: Awakening

Ali's POV

I woke up and sighed. Another day of pain and more memories of a nightmare. Things around here aren't right. I'm supposed to feel safe and secure in my own home, not terrified and stressed.

I got my Bluetooth speaker from where it was sitting on my desk, connected it to my phone and softly played my playlist off Spotify. It was made up of all my favourite artists: Niall Horan, Harry Styles, Liam Payne, Adele, Taylor Swift, Katy Perry, One Direction from when they were a band and a lot of other singers. I really love music. But the artist who has the most songs on my playlist was Louis.

Louis Tomlinson is my celebrity crush. He is an ex- member of One Direction and I think he is so damn hot. You can tell me otherwise but there is no way I would listen to you. Why? Because his music is my only source of comfort around here, stopping me numerous times from suicide and dragging me away from depression. I honestly couldn't thank him enough for what he has done for the world, not just me.

"Turn that shit down!" My father screamed, banging on the wall. I sighed again and turned it down a tone. "Not louder, you bitch! Turn it down!" My mother yelled. I turned it down two tones this time, leaving it at volume one. It seemed to satisfy both my parents so I got up from where I was seated to pull out some clothes, not caring what random stuff I got out.

I honestly don't care about anything anymore at this point. My day was only two minutes in and I was already sick of it- the whole damn week. It was Saturday and I am at my breaking point. I have so many words and emotions bottled up inside of me that I just wanted to scream.

I pulled up my baggy shorts that went to my mid thighs and my t-shirt over my head, followed by a baggy jumper. I didn't like to much of me showing, I felt bad. My parents always shamed me about my weight and my looks so I've begun eating less and wearing more baggy clothes than what I would normally. It made my parents somewhat yell at me less and made me feel better about myself.

My stomach rumbled and I looked at the clock. 11:30 am. I could call this meal lunch, right? I tiptoed down the stairs, otherwise my parents would absolutely lose it. I took out the ham, I thought I could just have a simple ham sandwich. "What are you doing? Trying to make yourself more fat?" My mum screeched. I flinched. "ROB!" She yelled for my dad. "YES SUSAN?" He yelled back. "THE PIG IS TRYING TO MAKE HERSELF MORE FAT! COME AND DEAL WITH HER!"

My dad came thundering down the stairs, sounding like an elephant. My mum left the room. Dad walked towards me and I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the pain. "You're a bitch." He snarled and raised his hand up, smacking me straight across the face before grabbing both my wrists in his rough hands and pushed me into the kitchen countertop. He held me there, and the granite began to dig into my skin, making me yelp. The pain was agonizing. I felt my knees give way and only then did my dad drop me to the floor. "Pathetic." He mumbled.

I sat on the floor and cried for another three minutes or so. No one was watching me and this might be my only alone time that I'll get for the next week so I may as well let all my pain out now. I wasn't bawling, nor was I sobbing. I was just quietly crying all my anger and sadness away. Eventually I plucked myself off the floor and stumbled back up the stairs to my room. I wasn't in the mood for a sandwich anymore. Maybe one less meal today might make me a little skinnier?

I decided to do my homework. I had an essay due for my university. At the age of twenty four you would have expected me to have moved out of my parents house or at least become more responsible for my work. If I wanted to become a doctor I would need to step it up a little. My parents had put it that way anyway.

- 2 Hours Later -

I had worked my butt off on this stupid essay, which didn't even cover an important topic anyways. Now it was 1pm and I hadn't done one thing that I did on the daily...

Walking into the bathroom, I locked the door behind me and reached for my razor. It was sitting in its holder, and to me it looked like it was pleading with me... to use it! I hovered the blade over the veins in the inside of my wrist where there was scars from doing it for many months. Each scar was profusely visible to the naked eye, but no one cared even once they had noticed them.

I dug the blade into my skin, breaking the vein. Blood came oozing out from the insides of my wrist. I cut into my skin again, the blood dripping all over the bathroom vanity. I just silently cried out in pain. Eventually I brought myself to cleaning up my bloody mess.

When there was not a drip of blood on the vanity nor blood oozing from my wrist, I stumbled back into my bedroom, barely conscious from all the blood I had lost. I collapsed on my bed and fell into an unconscious sleep.

- The Next Day -

I groaned. Today was clearly not it. My head hurt and I felt like I was drunk, but I never drink! I rolled over and checked the time on my mobile phone. 12:36 in the afternoon. The events of yesterday suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks. Looking at my wrists, I had two fresh new scars and a little blood stained in my skin.

I wasn't in the mood for doing anything productive so I decided to slip out of the house and go for a walk, however long it may be.

Climbing off my bed I creaked my door open. The bathroom was deserted. Poking my head round the door frame I could see that my parents were both still asleep. I crept down the stairs, acting like a ninja for my own amusement. I pulled back the front door only enough for me to squeeze my body through and out into the world. I could breathe fresh air and call myself 'free'. For now, all my worries have disappeared, and I was going to try to be 'happy' for the first time in a long time.