Being Raised By One Direction

Childhood

"I'm not hungry! Stop forcing me!" my eight year old lungs huff towards my demonic mother. She is always forcing me, making me eat when I don't want to. Making me wear dresses and skirts, when all I want to wear are jeans and sweats. She always tells me how disrespectful I am when I don't even do anything. "Mommy please stop!" somehow I always ended up crying when it came to things like this. It's sad. She always threatens me when I don't listen to the most smallest of things. I'm never right in her eyes, just a mistake.

"Eat your food otherwise you don't get to eat!" she argued. To threaten me further she grabs a belt and that's when I run. Due to my small frame I can squeeze into smaller areas, out of her deathly reach. She finally gives up the fight against me, knowing I defeated her once again. With all the crying and running around I felt weak, and it is not a good thing to be weak around this crazy woman. So I gladly, knowing she left, ate my food quickly. In spite of my moms crude behavior towards me all the time I wanted to get underneath her pale skin. Being the mischievous little girl I am I leave a couple strands of noodles and juice in the bowl. After placing it in the sink how I normally do, I left knowing she is going to get mad.

I hate my mom and everything about her. She wasn't like any other moms. She is cruel, and never gives me the love that a child needs to grow. I am tired of being neglected. So I walk, everyday around my large neighborhood, avoiding my house. 'I don't want to walk around,' I think. Instead of walking around aimlessly I walk to the playground. Today was bright and sunny, unlike my dreadful life. As I get closer to the jungle for children I see that there's very few people there. It's good for me, I'm use to being alone with my thoughts.

I sit myself in the entrance of the slide. After what feels like twenty minutes I start to doze off into my thoughts as usual. I think about running away from this hell hole and what would happen if I was just nonexistent. Suddenly my train of thought was disturbed by the pitter patter of foot steps. I look up to find a boy a little bit older than me gazing at my face.

I observe his complexion. His hair forming to the right side of his head, covering his forehead. His perfect jaw line. His beautiful, bright, blue eyes glimpsing at me. I observe his clothing, which is way better then mine. He has his blue stripped shirt tucked into his skinny, red, jeans. The only thing holding them up are his red suspenders. He glares at me confused, "Uhh why are you staring at me like that?" his voice sounded like nothing I've heard. Another accent from mine.

"I'm not looking at you in anyway." I quickly say to keep my cover.

"Okay then? Umm what's your name?" he calmly asks.

"Brooke... Uh what's your name?" I wondered looking at his glazed eyes, totally mesmerized in awe.

"I'm Louis! I'm from Yorkshire, England if you were wondering. Haha." He smiled so brightly as if he had no troubles. I envied that. Anyone who had very few problems in life. Always glad about everything, with no cares.

"I don't know where that is... But cool! Erhmm how old are you? You look older than me." he was definitely older than I. His voice was deeper than most boys I know and he was taller.

"I'm thirteen. Yeah 'I know why am I at a little kids park?' I just like to get away sometimes." after he said those words my heart sank. I knew him and I were going to be great friends. "What about you? How old are you?"

"I'm eight.... I should go, you probably don't want to be seen with an eight year old." I said shyly before standing up.

"No, no, no," he said grabbing my arm. "I insist that you stay." He slowly pulls me back down to where I was sitting. "I think it would be nice to have a thinking buddy... Don't you love?" he questioned, cocking his head to the side.