twitter hunt | calum hood

sixteen

It's been almost two days since the boys had their interview disaster. God, I've caused such a mess and it's been eating me apart. Both Luke and Calum like me, so that's amazing. There's now two videos of Calum
punching/trying to punch people in my defense. It's been announced that I'm Calum's girl which means pounds of hate. That interviewer called me some names and made fans believe I hooked up with Luke. The boys are not in trouble but I am. Well, nobody has said I'm in trouble, but I've told myself I'm in trouble.

I'm so stressed that I could physically pull out all of my hair. All the guys have gone to record, me staying back in the hotel, drowning in my own thoughts. What if Calum gets into some serious trouble because of me? I'll probably end up ruining everything he's worked hard for.

Plus, all this hate is bullshit. Jack is worried sick because every time I post an Instagram photo, there's thousands of comments full of hate. For every sixty hate comments, there's about two positive ones. That ratio doesn't cut it for me. On top of that, everything they say is true. They tell me I don't deserve Calum, or that I'm ugly, or that I'm fat, or fake, or a mistake. They bring back memories from school and they bring back memories of my shitty excuse of a step father. They bring back memories I've tried my hardest to forget.

Everything is weighing down my shoulders, at this point. My lungs start stutter, making me breathe extra hard. My hands are shaking like an earthquake. I can't even try to control the tears flowing down my cheeks. My stomach hurts and so does my chest. Am I dying? Oh my, God. I think I'm dying. Everything that's been said runs around in my head, haunting me even more than before. I start sweating a bit and I become dizzy. This needs to stop, now.

And it did. After three minutes of non stop freaking out, everything stopped. I gained control over my body, again. I still feel a little sick and shaky, but the other things stopped. I think I just had a panic attack. I haven't had one in years.

I hear the doorknob move around and so I run to the bathroom as quickly as possible. I don't look as bad as I thought. Granted, my eyeliner is completely gone. I rid my face of my halfway there make up to hide the fact I was crying. I believe I look decent and Calum's been calling my name for a good while now.

"Calm down. I'm here," I say when I exit the bathroom.

"What's wrong?" Calum questions as soon as he sees my face.

I don't know why, but that question made it hard for me to keep myself together in front of him.

"Calum, I think I figured out why celebrities date celebrities, not fans," I laugh, sadly, trying to soften the punch.

"What do you mean?" he asks, sitting down on the hotel bed.

"I mean, celebrities are used to this shit. Fans aren't. Celebrities know how to handle hate and rumors and all this drama. Fans don't. I don't," I admit with a shrug.

"Okay, well, I'll help you figure it out," Calum says, flustered and confused.

Just say it. If you don't, he will. Look at him. Do you really think you'd last forever anyway?

"Maybe you should date somebody that doesn't need help figuring things out," I rush.

A brief moment of silence stands between us. I move my sight from the floor to Calum and regret it, instantly. The tears that are building up in his eyes and the shocked expression covering his face breaks my heart. I take this as a chance to explain.

"Cal, this whole thing has been nothing but drama since the start. Your fans hate me, loathe me. Some of them wish me dead. Your manager is going to end up hating me if I keep causing shit. That interviewer guy hates me. You're eventually going to hate me, and I won't blame you, because at the moment, I really hate me, too."