Hi (A Liam Payne Story)

Author's Note

I'm sorry but this is not an update. I just wanted to let you all know why I decided to write this with Isabella.

So I'm fourteen. I have never been popular. As a matter of fact, I've always been bullied. Ever since I was in first grade.

I was seven years old the first time I got hit. I was terrified, I didn't understand what was happening. I didn't understand why people hit me. I didn't understand why people pushed me onto the ground. I didn't understand why people kicked me. I didn't understand why people choked me until I was turning blue before they released me. I didn't understand why I was pushed off the slides, or swings, or out of trees. I didn't understand any of that.

I just understood that it hurt.

I didn't understand why I had the urge to lie to everyone when they asked about my bruises. I didn't understand why I would hurt every time I moved. I didn't understand why my dog and cats were my only friends. I didn't understand why people looked at me in that way they do when they see someone hurt. I didn't understand why I cried myself to sleep every single night. I didn't understand why I would puke every morning while waiting for my bus.

I just understood that was what was happening.

I didn't tell a single soul. For eight months this went on. I lied to my parents, my grandmother, my teachers, the three friends I had, my animals. About my bruises, about my cuts on my back and legs, about my busted lip. More importantly, I lied to myself.

I eventually told my parents. They told my teachers. But the only thing that changed was how much I was physically hurt.

This kept going on. I was pushed still, my hair was yanked on, I was called things that would make the Devil cringe. I was made fun of for everything. Which sports team I supported. What music I listened to. How I wrote. The fact that I read a lot. And it went on for six years.

At first, I was allowed to escape during summer and when I was at home. But then my mom made me a Facebook. The bullies found me and started bullying me there. I would just delete the messages so my mom wouldn't find them.

When I got in middle school I thought it would get better. It didn't. I was shoved into lockers. Down the bleachers. People threw things at me. People even threw my books into the toilet.

Once again, I didn't tell anyone. I was ashamed. But I didn't believe anything they said.

But one day, I started believing them. I started believing I was ugly. That I was a whore. That I was stupid. That I was anorexic. That I was weak. That I was a coward.

It was around a year and a half ago that I hit rock bottom. That I finally said to myself, "Nobody cares. I'm not good enough. And I hate feeling like I am never good enough." So that Friday afternoon, I said goodbye to the few friends I had. I told them that they wouldn't see me on Monday because I would be dead. I begged them not to tell anyone else until after I was gone.

I went home. My parents or little sister wasn't there. So I called my mom and dad, told them how much I loved them. I turned on the radio and went to get a bottle of Benadryl. I took it with me to the living room.

I got out ten pills when I knew that only four would kill me. I wanted to make sure I was dead.

But then, this song came on. It was upbeat and I decided that when it finished I would take the pills. But that song told me how beautiful I was. How someone loved me. And for three minutes and eighteen seconds, I believed that.

The song was called "What Makes You Beautiful" by a band called One Direction.

After the song was finished, I put the pills back in the bottle. I put the bottle up.

For the next year, I struggled with suicidal thoughts. But every time I was thinking about doing it, that song came on the radio. So I didn't.

I'm telling you all this because you need to understand what Inspired the story. Because you don't know how it feels unless you hit rock bottom and that's what I did. This story is to help educate everyone what goes through the mind of a suicidal person. About how lost and hopeless they feel.

Please, if ANYONE ever tells you they're going to kill themselves, talk to them. Make them forget every single negative thing they've ever felt or been told. Because it can make a difference. It can save a life.

If any of you feel this way, message me. Message me on this account, or on my personal account. Hell, you can email me at animalluvrgirl32@yahoo.com to talk. I'll always listen. I'll always talk. I'll always help.

REMEMBER! You ARE beautiful. And I love you. ~Ali