*Possible trigger warning, please don't read if you struggle with self harm.*
Styles. He is everything. He's all I think about. Styles. Every single thought is consumed by him. He is perfect. Styles. Even his name is perfect... Too bad he doesn't know I exist.
That's right. I don't know him, never met the guy. Doesn't stop my all consuming thoughts towards him. He doesn't even know that I exist. That fact should make me sad, but yet strangely I feel the opposite.
Whenever his face appears on the telly, I can't look away. I know this isn't healthy, but I can't control it. I still can't believe I'm obsessing over a celebrity. I kinda make it a rule not to, because after all they're just people like us, right?
Wrong. Styles is literally perfect. He's practically a fucking god. Words can't begin to describe what I feel when I hear him sing, it's like my heart is so full of emotion towards him that it has to bubble out everywhere. Styles.
"Lacie!"
Shit.
"Lacie, I called you three fucking times! Your ass is going to forget annoying me, you little bitch."
That's my mother for you. She's not the nicest, but I guess it could be worse.
"Coming mother," I sighed, getting ready to stand up.
The door slammed open with so much force that it hit the wall. Mother stumbled in with red eyes, a bottle in one hand, and a cigarette in the other.
"You're gonna regret ignoring me now, you little shit," she snarled, stepping closer to me.
I backed away slowly, her mimicking my actions until my back was on the wall.
Don't cry Lacie, I furiously told myself, practically begging the tears to stay in. I will not allow her the satisfaction of seeing me afraid and crying.
She held a piece of a broken bottle up. "You know I hate punishing you Lacie," she practically smirked, "but you gave me no choice."
Closing my eyes, I willed myself to be strong.
"Hold out your hand."
Gingerly extending my arm,her vice like grip latched onto my wrist,pushing up my sleeve.
"Open your eyes."
Doing as I'm told, I'm greeted with the cold hearted stare of a woman that I barely know. She doesn't care for me. she's even told me that to my face.
Lowering the broken bottle piece, she touched it to my skin.
"Don't move now," she mocked, "this won't hurt a bit."
Dragging it deeply into my skin, she dragged it in a straight line across my arm. It was so deep, it was really painful. Clenching my jaw, I refused to make a noise.
When she saw that I wasn't going to cry or say anything,she pulled it away. "Next time don't wash my clothes in the sink." And with that, she turned and stalked out the door and down the hallway.
It was then the pain set in. Looking at the blood seeping out of my arm made me feel a little faint, so I hurried to the bathroom to wash it, and bandage it. She cut it deeper this time.
Staring down at the hundreds of scars marking my arms, I made up my mind. I have to leave this place. Anywhere would be better than here.
Hurriedly throwing things into my suitcase, I grabbed my fedora and crept down the stairs. Peeking into the living room, I saw Mother was passes out from a drunken stupor.
Feeling no remorse, no attachments, I slipped out the door and hurried towards town. I didn't know where I was going, or what I would do when I get there, but I just knew I had to get out of that place, or I'd die.
A/N
So that's the first chapter! Hope you enjoyed it, please leave any comments, I will read them, and please don't forget to vote! :)
~M
