The one who was loved (a Niall Horan love story)

Chapter 1. Derek

I sat at the edge of my bed. The smell of his strong cologne was still left behind. It was a shelter for my broken heart. I haven't washed my sheets ever since Derek died. I haven't been able to do anything, eat, feel, laugh, just nothing. He was my other half, he was my everything. He didn't deserve to die. It was all a big mistake that could never be taken back. Tears puddle in my eyes and stung me with anger. Whenever I think about Derek I cry, it's almost unstoppable. I could be doing the simplest of tasks, such as homework, and then I would remember him, the next thing I would hear is the cold brittle sound of my tears crashing on my notebook paper. It was inevitable, I was always upset, some might use the word depressed. I was depressed.

Graduating high school was easy because I wasn't bearing a death. It so hard and people just don't understand. Now I need to live on my own somewhere, I enjoy London. My class once took a trip there near the end of my high school days and it was quite calming. It really helped me to clear my thoughts. That was before everything with Derek happened. No one really knows what happened the night Derek passed, only my Mom and older sister Katy know the full story. My Dad doesn't even know the full story.

I can never move on with my life until I can rest at peace with what happened to Derek. I always blame myself, even when everyone tells me I did nothing. I always feel ashamed. Like I have enormous grey clouds over my head every damn day. I haven't even laid eyes on any other boy since Derek left. He was the one I wanted. The one who's eyes I wanted to wake up to every morning and the one I wanted to grow old with, now he's gone but I need to try and move on. It will be hard, so very hard, but I have to try. At least for the sake of my family and friends.

Just thinking about the subject makes me get entirely racked up. I cry again and not just a normal cry, but the kind of cry where you start hyperventilating and you sniffle a lot. The kind where you don't care what's going on around you or where you are, you just want to curl up and cry forever. The kind that gives you massive head aces, puffy eyes, sore throats, and a bad feeling in your stomach. I just stay in one fetal position for an hour or so until my Mom calls for me.

"Lacie are you all set to go, plane leaves in 45 minutes we gotta leave". Yes I am, I'm moving to London. The London, England. I'm not legally allowed to live by myself yet so I brought my mom along for a few weeks, just until I turn 18. I drag my weak body out of bed and wipe a few stray tears from my face. I salty water has already left trails along my cheek boned and down my neck. There's a sticky feelings that is always left on my face after I cry. Why must I do this to myself?

"Be down in a second Mom" I yelled back to her. I pull my hair up, take an Advil and put some concealer under my eyes to cover up the redness. I pull the last sheet off my bed, it's the one that smells like Derek. I put it in a special box. Then I take one last good look at myself and walk down the stairs. Apparently this is going to be good for me. I hope.

I HOPE YOU LIKE THE FIRST CHAPTER. MORE TO COME PLEASE LIKE AND COMMENT! Please don't steal my story or ideas. They are entirely mine and entitled to me. Thanks! Xoxo Ash :)