Deciding My Direction (on hold to edit)

You Found Me

I bit my lip tightly, concentrating of the paper in front of me. I went to start the note again but froze, my palms sweating and my heart racing. Fear was taking over my mind and I was almost about to chicken out of writing the note at all. It was the least I could do though, to write it so he could have some idea why I'd be leaving. 

I set the pen down, tugging at my ponytail and shutting my eyes tightly. My skin burned and ached for the stinging feeling I was so used to. No one would notice if I only made a few, or maybe a lot somewhere else. He's leaving for tour. It could be my little secret once again, back to normal. Back to what I'm used to. 

I could already feel the regret sinking in as I stood up and turned to the bag I had already packed, sticking my hand into the pocket and gliding my fingers over the smooth metal. I couldn't find it in me anywhere to stop myself, I didn't even want to. I wanted it all to go back to what it was supposed to be, to what I'm used to, to what I can handle. None of the extra that I now have.

I gripped it between two fingers, biting at my lip as I contemplated it. Was it worth it? The moment of peace and painlessness, just for hours and hours of regret? Was the single minute of relaxation worth hiding from the ones I love and damaging my skin further? Is it worth it? 

I could hear his voice in my head already, telling me what I already knew. That it was bad and actually not worth it. That the moment is temporary and would fix itself in time. That he's sorry he wasn't there to stop me before it even got this far. The pain he'd feel for what I'd done. If he knew, if he were to find out, despite being on tour for the next two months without a single break. 

My mind took over, my vision blurring and fading in and out of focus. My body reacted to whatever my mind screamed and chanted at me. The pain radiating from my skull to the tips of my fingers and toes, the mental pain that could only be taken away with the worst possible senerio. But I had to. I had to. I had no choice. I couldn't help it. I couldn't fight back like I thought I could. I wasn't nearly as strong as he believed me to be. 

No matter what he'd say, I knew that it would never amount to or fix what the voices in my head had been saying. Nothing could fix that. There is no way to fix my kind of crazy. I'm my own special brand of it, the kind that doesn't deserve someone like him taking care of me this way. I'll never understand how he could put up with me, how he could genuinely want to spend time with me and talk to me and actually like me. It doesn't make sense. He could do so much better.

I'm just a nothing. 

 My phone buzzed, snapping me out of my trance as I stared down at the paper still. My left hand jumped to my sleeve, tugging it up to see the exact opposite of what I expected. My skin was almost entirely just scars by this point, no fresh cuts anywhere to be seen. A bit of pride flew through me until I realized that it was one step closer to my scars fading, which sent my mind into overdrive. I ached for all I'd thought of, but I knew I couldn't. I can't. I won't. 

As soon as I could tear my eyes away from my arm, I peaked over at my phone. I had an hour and twnety two minutes before Dad got here, and by then I wanted to be long gone. I picked it up with a shaking hand, dropping the pen and dialing Niall's number quickly. 

"Are you sure." 

"Never been more sure of anything in my entire life. I want you to move in with me and you're going to, and that is final." He replied in what I could tell he was hoping to be a stern tone. The only thing that did for me was help me picture a baby chiuahua trying to be viscous. It made a smile creep onto my lips.