Dangle. (Vampire!Zayn; Ziall AU)

Chapter 1.

              (Hey! I've decided I needed a Ziall story, because honestly, I ship Ziall as a romance. #SorryNotSorry. This is going to be a Vampire!Zayn fanfiction, and It'll have dashes of Larry and Deleanor (Danielle and Eleanor) in there here and there! I really am going to be focusing on Ziall here! Thank you for reading! Vote and comment if you lie it please? Every vote and comment mean the world and MORE to me! They make my bad days better. Anyway, Read on! >>>>)

                Niall always new he was different, and not the good kind.

             Niall always knew he wasn't worth fighting for. He always knew that he wasn't the funniest, or the cutest, the handsomest, or the tallest. He always knew he wasn't the strongest, or that he didn't have the most muscles on his arms, and a toned chest with a six pack or eight pack or twelve pack. Hell, the only type of pack he has is a pack of pudding by his side, but its not like he enjoy being this way. He doesn't enjoy it at all, actually; it disgusts him.

              'It's a sad day when you start to disgust yourself. You know you're utterly repulsive when you can even see it in yourself.' Niall thought. 'You know you've given up when you cant even argue against your inner devil. That's how I know I've given up on myself.'

           Niall stared down at the fading white scars dazzling his wrists and stomach; each one shimmered in the dim light of the bathroom lamp. Niall glared at them in disgust, his upper lip curling up. The more he stared, the angrier he became. The angrier he became, the more cuts were made. The anger wasn't towards anyone but himself. Half of it wasn't even anger, but pure, raw disappointment and shame in his own being. He didn't deserve to be here, and he didn't want to be here either.

            Each one of them had a story--each finger wide scar across his body. Some stories were puzzling, the blond boy in such a depressed state he had no recollection of even giving himself them. Some angry, visibly there jagged and broken scars, most cuts making wavy patterns, as Niall was either crying too hard to see where he was cutting, was too angry to think--nonetheless create a straight line--, or Niall simply didn't care enough to put effort anymore. Most likely the first two, including the ladder.

               Some stories--the ones that went along with the longest cuts, the deepest, the most bled--and gave of the worse, most gruesome memories - the ones Niall tried desperately to forget. They still stayed in the back of his mind, though, constantly reminding him of his failures and his futile struggles to die. 'I should have tried harder.' Niall thought slowly, sullenness sprinkling his thought tone. 'I should have cut deeper; I should have cut more.'

               He lifted up his hand, looking at the fresh cuts just made, along with the razor still held tight in his grasp. He spat out his next words softly with venom, his voice not raising a whisper. "You're disgusting and you deserve all the pain you get. You're a bloody freak, Niall." It's funny how the words he'd just said had matched the exact same words he had gotten sent in his directions earlier this morning.

           His thoughts were always the same as others words--not because their words are the reason he thought this way, but they definitely were an agreement of his view of himself. Niall had always thought that way, but others words were just matching up with Niall's thoughts.

              'It's so pitiful, the way I feel all of the time.' He thought again. 'Why is it me that gets all of this pain?'

               "Oh right... because I deserve it.'

                With that, it was one more swipe to the wrist.

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