Paul's Adopted Daughter ~ One Direction Fan Fic

Chapter 2~ Welcome

"Alright, this is your room. We'll go shopping for curtains and such tomorrow hon. We didn't know who we would be bringing home today." Clodagh smiled shyly at me, trying to make me feel welcomed. 

"Thank you, i honestly cannot thank you guys enough. That place..." I trailed off, shuddering at the picture burned in my mind of the peeling wallpaper, the crappy rusted beds, the slop they called food. That place was utter bull shit and everyone knows it.

"Iris sweety, stop thanking us. We understand, that place was a hell hole." She chuckled and tossed her hair over her shoulder when Paul walked by with one of the babies in his arms. I smiled, hoping i end up lucky enough to find my sole mate. 

"You mumble quite a bit." Paul said jokingly at the end of the hallway, with a crying baby thrashing in his built arms. I blushed, turning on my heel and walking into my eggshell yellow painted room. I spun around in it, looking at every aspect and flaw of the room.

The paint isn't chipping or peeling, the bed frame isn't buckling under my touch, the windows dont have metal bars displayed across them, the dresser isn't falling apart screw by screw, the floorboards don't seem to chap your feet when you walk across them, the fan isn't hanging by it's last cord.......I'd give this place a 1,000 on a scale of 100. 

"I knew you'd like it." Paul said, startling me beyond belief. 

"It's luxury Pa-"

"Call me dad." He interrupted, putting his hand out in front of him. I closed my eyes, remembering the last guy i was forced to call dad.

"Can i call you Paul till i am used to you. Don't take it personally please, it's just the last guy i called dad......touched me wrongly." I said, gritting my teeth, that man should be 6 feet under, rotting.

"That's fine, i understand. You haven't had the most pleasant of lives." 

"I honestly don;t remember half of it, maybe that was just to protect my sanity." I said replaying the memory of being throw against the wall and stripped in front of my so called 'dad'. 

Paul walked out, closing my door snugly behind him. I whispered around, pulling the sloppily folded clothes from my duffel bag. I separated what little clothes i owned into 4 piles: Shirts, pants/skirts, underwear, and bras.

"John! Claudia!" Clodagh screamed in pure frustration, i giggled smiling. 

I started putting my clothes into the neatly painted pastel blue dresser, that i proudly can now call mine. I got to the bottom and felt something scrape against my finger, i retreated it out of my bag. I pulled my pointer to my lips and sucked on it, i felt tears sting my eyes when i looked to the bottom of the bag.

The razor blade, twinkled in the light of my ceiling fan, why does it have to look so beautiful? Why can't the scars on my wrists and the taunting from my peers make me stop? I try and i try but i just can't stop it,  once i catch a glimpse of the sharp edge i need it, i thrive and pleade for the feel of it against my wrists again. 

I ran my fingers against the side of it, picking it up carefully. I flipped it around in my fingers, feeling the cool metal made the blood rush trough my veins at an alarming rate. I closed my eyes, nibbling on my cheek, why does something so harsh make me feel so lively?

"Clodagh, did you see her wrists, her ankles, the back of he neck?! She obviously does it herself !" Paul shouted at Clodagh, making me drop the blade onto the floor. I heard feet trample up the stairs, i ran to my door and locked it tightly against its frame. I have to hide the blade. 

I picked it up and put it in my drawer under a pair of black yoga shorts, but not before sliding it across my wrist jut once. The blood gushed from the opened skin, sliding and gliding down the chilled skin. I bit my lip, pulled a tissue out of the box, and pulled my hoody sleeve down making it hold the tissue in place. 

"Open thir door right now Iris!" Paul said huskily, in a meniscing tone. I ran to the door, unlocked it and opened it wide open. 

"Whats with the scars?" Clodagh asked, closing the door behind her and Paul. I shrugged and pulled my eyebrows close in confusion.

"What scars?" 

"the ones that lead up your arm, your ankles and the back of your neck." Paul said firmly, sighing in anger.

"oh i got in fights with the other girls, that's all." I said smiling smally towards them, i need them off my shoulders. 

"Why is there a bloody tissue on the floor?" I whipped around, my mouth hanging open in surprise and fear. I ran towards it and picked it up, throwing it into the bin next to my bed. 

"I had a bloody nose before." 

"Then why is there blood running straight down your wrist." Damn Clodagh, your good.

"I was wiping the blood on my sleeve and i accidentaly got it on my arm." I answered skillyfully, applying every technique of lying i know. 

"It wouldnt be running, it would be smeared." 

"Alright! You caught me." I mumbled pulling my sleeve up to show my collection of scars, the many memories behind each shining out proudly for everyone looking to notice. 

"Sit down." Paul snapped, pointing to my bed that was covered in plain white sheets and a mint green duvet. I listened, sitting down on the fluffy bed.

"Why do you do it?" 

"I deserve it." I said upon instinct, thats what i tell everyone.

"No one deserves that." 

"Sure i do." I replied right after the last letter left his mouth.

"Give us the blade." Clodagh said, finally stepping in on our argument. I didn't move.

"Get it." Paul snapped his fingers. 

I got up, sighing in pure defeat, while they basked in their glory. I opened up my top drawer and lifted up the yoga shorts, i pulled the blade out and put it carefully into Pauls palm.

Damn that was quick, they never usually catch me till a couple weeks.

Guess those other 'parents' werent very good.