Eighteen Reasons

Chapter One

{Hey Everyone! Enjoy the first chapter, It took a month to write it, but I hope it's fairly decent!}

“No!” I yelled. My eyes focused on her as I stomped into the kitchen. Her attention turned from the stove to me in a heartbeat. She threw a fierce glare at me in return to my angered expression. Her short, blonde hair reminded me of my brother’s. “I’m eighteen,” I continued my rant, “You can’t tell me what to do anymore, mum!”

She took a step back, and then threw her hands up in the air. “Claire, I know you miss Niall, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go all the way to the US to see him. You can wait, like the rest, of us for him to come back.” Her voice was stern. Nothing was more annoying than that tone she gets, that tone only an angry mother can make.

I stormed off to my room. I hadn’t seen my brother in months and yet I still had to wait even longer just to see him again. Why? I extremely hate how protective she is over me. She doesn’t understand the fact that I’m nearly eighteen now and I should be able to do what I want.

For as long as I can remember Niall had been here for me whenever I needed him. Breakups and Make ups, Friends, School issues, Just things that someone like me can’t make it through alone. When he left for the X-Factor that’s when I really broke down for the first time. I had no idea how I was going to survive. After he came home from his first tour, I settled with it. I got too used to him being around, too dependant on him being home every day that now I’m back to being that miserable.

My friends always teased me for being so close with my brother. I consider them friends because they’re all I have, but in reality I’m just a girl that gets taken advantage of and teased. Greg was always popular, one of the guys the “nerds” looked up to, and he never understood my pain. Niall and I weren’t anything like that; we always got taunted and made fun of. There was nothing we could do about it.

Now with Greg moving out and Niall already gone, it’s kind of like being an only child. Of course, to add to my life’s problems, my parents are divorced which makes things very difficult to live with around here. Another thing that really bugs me is the fact that, I’m hidden. I can’t even be recognized for being Niall’s younger sister by the media. It’s too “risky”.

With many different thoughts racing through my head, I rushed through the doorway of my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I looked into my full-length mirror, hanging on the wall. My long blonde hair was a mess, my mascara was slightly smudged around my eyes, making me look like a beat up raccoon, and my hot pink bra showed through my white tank top. It was easy to tell that I was not in the mood for anything today.

The bed looked inviting, ready to take a few screams and tears in the pillows, along with a few good punches to the mattress, but not today. I sat down at my desk. One hand ran through my knotted hair, the other dug through a drawer of old pictures and scrapbooks.

I finally found what I was looking for. A baby blue scrapbook with light pink ribbon across the cover in diagonal stripes. It was jam packed full of pictures of Greg and Niall and I from when we were really little. I smiled at some of the cute pictures when I was just a baby and Greg and Niall would hold me and play with me. No doubt, growing up with them was never a disappointment.

I pulled out my phone and opened up my messages. I hadn’t talked to Niall since yesterday so I figured now was a good time to text him. “Niallerrr, mum said no, I’m not allowed, even though I’m 18 now, ugh” I groaned, rereading the message before I sent it.

His response was almost instant, as if he was just waiting for me to text him. “Well it is dangerous to go flying to America by yourself.” I sighed in agreement.

“She still let you go, and you aren’t that much older than me.”

“I also had tons of security and 4 other friends with me.”

“I could bring a few friends with me.” I don’t know why, but I just kept pushing suggestions in his face, as if he was going to go up against my mum and tell her to let me go. No. He’s a good boy; he wouldn’t dare disobey mummy’s rules.

“It isn’t the same; she just wants you to be safe.”

“No, it’s because she can’t afford a plane ticket.”

“Look, Claire, I will do the best I can to get you over here, but I’m not going to fight with you over it, if mum says no, then it’s a no.”

I took a deep breath. “Calm down.” I whispered to myself. “She’ll loosen up eventually.” I kept the positive thoughts running through my mind. That’s the only way I could keep myself from breaking down again. I had thought about slitting my wrists before, but I talked myself out of it.

“Alright, fine.” I texted the final words in the conversation, then slipped the phone back in my pocket. I was going, whether my mum liked it or not. And that was final.

Two weeks later, I found myself in the exact same argument with mum. This time, I was brought to tears. I hadn’t seen this family so torn apart since mum and dad got divorced.

You could tell by my body language that I wasn’t in the right mind. I spent hours in my room, debating whether or not I wanted to cut my wrists or my thighs. Things had significantly gotten worse over the past few weeks, and I was in no state to be thinking clearly.

I was in bad condition. My grades had subsided a decent amount, another boyfriend had come and gone, and the fights with my family and friends didn’t help in any way at all. If Niall had been there, I might’ve been in a somewhat better situation. But he wasn’t, therefore, I wasn’t.

I had spent countless hours thinking about what it would be like to be loved by someone, I can’t tell you how many tears I’ve let drip from my eyes while believing I was absolutely nothing. At the rate I was going, I was going nowhere fast, which definitely led to falling even further into the state of depression.

I was in my room, on the floor, leaning against the bed. I wasn’t feeling the need to permanently scar my body, surprisingly; I was back to the stage of getting out, and actually trying. It had been awhile since the last time the thought “try” came across me, but I’m glad it came back. I’m afraid if it hadn’t, I wouldn’t still be here today.

After a few days of supposedly “trying”, I got a letter in the mail. I looked at the envelope, it was from the US. My stomach formed a knot immediately as I read the name ‘Niall Horan’ on the return address.

I quickly flipped the envelope over, and ripped it open. Contained inside, was a plane ticket and a letter.

           Dear Claire,

I know you are upset that mum isn’t letting you come down here, she wants the best for you. Please keep in mind this decision is all up to her, not you. Let’s say I buy you a first class plane ticket to New York, New York. You can come tour with me and my friends, don’t worry you’ll be completely safe, we have enough security to hold back a herd of elephants. We’ll get you some sort of private tutor while you’re in America, and when the tour’s over you can come back to London with me to finish up your last year of school at Uni.

I skimmed through the letter as fast as I possibly could. “MUM!” I shouted, waving the papers in the air. “Niall wrote us, he wants me to come to America!”