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Chapter One

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. My alarm clock screamed. I reached over to shut it off and sat up. Today was the day.

After twelve months of hard work, sweat, and tears, it was finally worth it. I start my internship today.

I got out of bed and walked into the bathroom of my new flat my no good drunk of a father's child support helped pay for.

Looking in the mirror, I saw dark circles under my eyes. My glossy brown hair went down to my chest. Such a change from the curly mop of blond hair I had before.

I stood under the scalding water of the shower for a long time. Part of me was nervous, part of me was excited.

I felt like finally I could make my mom proud. Finally, she could show off her daughter and her achievements. Hell, she even showed up to my graduation from cosmetology school. Her gift to me was none of than a new wardrobe to compliment my new body. They were all of her designs of course.

After washing my hair and body, I stepped out of the warmth and onto the cold tile. I grabbed the sink.

My head felt fuzzy and I couldn't see straight. When was the last time I ate? I couldn't remember. Did I eat yesterday? Oh yes, that's right. I had an apple for dinner.

I knew what I was doing was dangerous and unhealthy, but I couldn't help it. Got years, I longed to look like the girls on tumblr. And now I finally did.

When my feet were together, my thighs didn't touch. I had a prominent collarbone. I looked like one of my mother's models.

She had no idea what she was doing to me. I didn't blame her though. This was all me

Stepping into my closet, I looked around for the perfect outfit. Today, (thanks to my mom) I was finding out where I'd be going and what I'd be doing for the entire summer. An internship would help so much with getting my name out there in the industry. I was grateful, really I was.

I found a pair of black skinny jeans with leather stripes going down the side of each pant meg and slipped them on. They fit perfectly. My mother made sure that I was maxed out on her designs and these were definitely one of hers. The tag read Miller London Designs.

I picked out a plain white top and a pair of killer boots. Perfect.

I looked in the mirror and smiled at my reflection. My hair fell into soft waves down my shoulders, thanks to endless hours of work my mother's hair stylist had done. Months ago, he had coaxed the frizzy curl out of it and made it into a work of art.

I finger combed the waves, working Moroccan oil into it. Once I was satisfied, I moved onto my makeup. I applied a layer of foundation, followed by powder, bronzer, eyeshadow, mascara, and eye liner. When I was finished, I looked in the mirror, still astonished at how I now looked. My makeup was amazing. I believe I was truly talented.

Looking at the clock, I noticed I had ten minutes before I had to leave. I spritzed Chanel No. 5 onto my wrists for good luck and headed out of the door, wanting to be early.

I was the first one to arrive at the cosmetology school I so recently graduated from. My palms had begun to sweat.

Finally, everyone had arrived and Ms. Peters led us to her office. The twelve girls sitting beside me all looked the same.

Skinny. And pretty.

Ma. Peters greeted us and wasted no time explaining everything.

"Now girls, these internships are a vital part of your career. Don't mess this up. Okay, let's get down to business. Hadley, you'll be first. You showed amazing skill all throughout your schooling and I'm so proud of you. You've been selected for one of the most prestigious internships. You'll be working alongside one of my close friends, Lou Teasdale, assuring her during One Direction's Take Me Home Tour! Congrats!" The other girls clapped but I couldn't move. My blood went cold and my skin became clammy.

The words One Direction went through my head like a bullet. One Direction. I didn't hate the band itself, just one of the members. Niall Horan. He made my school years a nightmare. He was my biggest bully. When I was ten, he tripped me while I was going down the stairs, when I was eleven, he pushed me into the wall when the teacher wasn't looking.

But when I turned thirteen, the insults became verbal. I can't count the number of times he called me a fatass, lardass, whale, fatso, the list goes on and on. After three years of verbal assault, he finally left to audition for the X-Factor and I could breathe again.

Not wanting to seem ungrateful, I plastered a smile on my face and thanked Ms. Peters. She was surprisingly helpful through all of my training and complimented my work daily. I took the packet of information and excused myself, politely.