Through the Dark // 1D [PROBABLY DISCONTINUED]

Ch. 1 [Through the Dark]

A/N:

So hi! It's amazing you survived the very first description! I ahh tend to talk a lot ;)

and guys, what do you do when your grandma starts liking One Direction? O_O

Well, anyway, good day to you! HAHA, its like 1:30 in the morning here........

okayokay, gobble gobble hey hey, off to chapter one!

OKAY WARNING THIS CHAPTER MIGHT FREAK YOU GUYS A LOT BECAUSE IT SOUNDS REALLY DARK AND DEPRESSING AND STUFF BUT I PROMISE IT WILL GET BETTER SOON... AFTER 1D OF COURSE..... SO LIKE  BRONWYN ISN'T ME, AND LIKE THIS IS WEIRD.... If I get anything wrong I am terribly sorry, I know very little about depression.... X(

oh and uh @skysong11 hee you might want to hide in a cave somewhere O-O-+

Well anyway

*throws ham*

ENJOY! *waves and then runs**

---

Bronwyn's POV

Rain.

Rain.

Rain.

I sit on the roof, staring out across the damp landscape, reminding me of myself. Sweeping my soaking mud-brown hair out of my face I sigh.

It was ten in the morning, and I was supposed to be in school. But I couldn't bring myself to go and face another day with the bullies. I also can't deal with the pain.... the pain that slowly fades to a constant throb. I have gotten over the initial feeling of it, but sometimes when I ignore it, it becomes worse. And I know where its coming from. The monster inside of me that is eating through my heart. Eating through my throat.

I blame myself for letting it settle there in the first place.

All I can think about is how depression is taking the reigns to my life. I guess that is why i can't go to school. I can't concentrate, and if I go, people will call me things. True things about me.

Slut. Pig. Fat. Hoe. Dope. These words don't sting me anymore. I know it is me now. When I first was called that, at the age of eight, my parents still lived with me. It was a shock. I remember running away and coming to tell my parents. They just laughed it off. Yeah, I guess you could say my parents were arseholes.

But people never dropped the names. So I never brought it up in front of them again. I guess you could say they're my "nicknames".

Thoughts brewing, I slowly get to my feet and slip through the dingy, round window leading off of the roof, accidentaly slashing myself in the arm. I flinch away, like it will lash out at me again. Though I am extremely depressed, I guess you could say I still was fighting back. I tried cutting once, and I couldn't bring myself to ever do it again. It was horrible. My parents encouraged me to try it more often, saying it was good for a bitch like me, but I couldn't do it. Any mention or thing that will promote the idea of cutting makes me flinch.

The scars on my wrist remind me to keep fighting, so I never have to go so low as to cut. I don't hold it against people who are depressed and they do cut, though. It is extremely hard not to... it's like an addiction. Kind of like cigarettes. Try one, it's disgusting. Try it again, not horrible... and BAM your addicted. (A/N: Not that I would know anything about the cutting or smoking..... please everyone know I would never do that but those of you who do.... I am there for you! Keep fighting...) Luckily I never tried it twice.