A Broken Dream (A One Direction Fanfiction)

Chapter One: A History Unearthed

Hey! How are you? It's time for chapter one! I hope you're as excited as I am :D

Enjoy!

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•Leah's POV•

I stared down at the sink letting silent tears drip from my thin face. Layers of dark brunette hair sheltered me from the light.

"I don't want to do this anymore." I fought back the urge to raid the medicine cabinet and get everything over with.

I'm tired of it. Everything. I'm tired of smiling, I'm tired of being alone, I'm tired of hiding the bruises, all of it. I want to give up so bad but I know I can't, all because of them. They're the reason I'm still alive. Those beautiful people that I have to watch out for. All those perfect people that can't help themselves.

I've been watching out for them for years now, two to be exact. They're my family, although I've never personally talked to most of them.

My fans are all I have, that and my mom's locket. It has a picture of the two of us in it, it was the week my dad left us alone and it was the last week I was ever happy. It was the last week with her.

I don't remember much; I was only five years old. I just remember her sobbing, but they were happy tears. Then the visit to the park and going to my grandmother's and then staying home and cleaning and dancing and cooking. It was the week I learned what it was like to be a family.

Then he came back. And it got worse. It wasn't just bruises anymore, it was scars. It was bandages instead of ice packs, and she couldn't take it. My mom, I mean. It was hard on her. She sheltered me and kept me safe, away from his reach. But when she gave up, he could get to me. Touch me, hit me, nearly kill me on some occasions. I had to fend for myself.

I wiped the tears away and slipped quietly down the hall. 'Daddy dearest' was napping, he hates it when something wakes him up. If he wakes up, I get hit.

I closed the door to my room silently and breathed out. I was in the clear, for now. Slipping on my hoodie, I found myself in my regular position on my mattress (my dad broke the frame chasing me around trying to hit me when I was 11). My legs were crisscrossed and my slim fingers found my iPod and I put on Little Things. I retracted my grip and found them.

The scars. Over and over, relentlessly grazing my skin. All up and down both arms, my stomach, both legs. Mostly white, some pink, some red. My darkest moments on display for the world and I couldn't do a thing about it. Wanna know a secret? I don't want to. I hope that one day someone sees them and asks me if I'm okay.

But of course no one will. I'm the 'freak'. Because my mom is dead and I hate everyone around me, I'm a 'nerd' or 'retarded' (which is highly offensive) or 'alone forever'. I just hold onto the hope that someday, everything will be okay.

Someday, I can compare my scars to someone's and tell them "you will survive. If I could do it, you can to."

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How did you like chapter one? I'll be updating whenever I can, hopefully everyday! So please tell me what you think and maybe vote? Y'all are amazing! Thanks for reading!

Stay beautiful,

Brittany