Dear Harry, I'm Broken...Fix Me?(ON HOLD)

Chapter 1

**Pic of Bryn**

September 3rd,

Dear Harry,

This is my first entry, so here's a little about myself. My name is Bryn Wills. I'm 17, but my birthday is February 2nd, the day after you! I love to read and write. I'm going to go to college for some English classes, and I hope to be a writer, journalist, or editor. I have caramel, wavy hair, kind of like you but lighter color. It reaches my sholders and is pretty easy to style.

Anyway, I'm writing this tell you about what my life is like. I know you may never lay eyes of this, but the comfort of just thinking about it helps me hold onto my shitty life. I'm bullied at school every day for liking One Direction. I live in a hick town, and if you aren't in sports at my school you're bound to be bullied.

Today was the first time I was verbally abused. At first it was just glares down the hall, but now Preston, football star, verbally called me out.

"There goes that One Direction freak. That girl wants to marry those skinny jean wearing gay boys with pansy ass feelings."

That's exactly what he said. I remember. Everyone laughed at me. I live in a small town that if you don't wear Wrangler jeans, flannel plaid shirts, work boots, and a cowboy hat, you're labeled gay. I don't want get stuck here. I want to move to a big city, like London! My mom says that when I graduate I'll be able to go wherever I please, and I can't wait to leave! Trust me.

I want to thank you Harry, and all the boys from One Direction. You boys saved me from myself.

Dear Harry, I'm Broken...Fix Me?

**Present Day**

My alarm clock buzzed, wakening me up from my dream-less sleep. I stretched out my limbs, shaking off all signs of sleep. I looked around my room as I placed my hands on my pink comforter. My walls were a baby pink, and have white trimming at the bottom. I had a widow seat over facing East, overlooking the some-what busy street. My walls are covered in One Direction posters, along with pictures of my friends from my old school, family, dog, fat cat, and postcards I got from my father.

My parents have been divorced for exactly a year and 4 months. At first I lived with my dad in California, but then he pursued his dream of traveling the world. I'm really happy for him, but he left me with my mom, hick of a step dad, and a hick town. My mom moved to a tiny town, Lake Plains, in New York. She married the chief of police and settled down. I never got along with her, mainly because she was a bossy bitch. My father knew what he was doing when he divorced that lady. He felt really bad when he left me here, but I don't want to hold him back.

My fat cat, Valerie, jumps on my bed and stretches out then plops down. My mom let me keep her, but warned me that she had a dog named Vinnie.

"Hey Valerie. How's my fat cat and only friend?" I ask. I pet her behind the ear and purring erupts from her neck.

"I need to get ready now Valerie," I say to my cat. She meows in my face, but stays sitting.

"Fine lazy," I huff. I push Valerie aside then climb out of bed. I quickly take a shower and get dressed. I decide to wear my "What Makes You Beautiful" shirt, dark flare jeans, and silver sparkly TOMS. I get bullied enough, so I really don't care about if they think my outfit is stupid.

"Bryn! Breakfast!" my step-dad, Miles, shouts.

"Coming Miles!" I yell. I quickly walk down the stairs and take my place in the small kitchen table. Our house isn't really big, but it works for 3 people, 1 dog, and 1 fat cat. Our kitchen has dark cabinets, black counter tops, and newish appliances. It's kind of small but it works.