You're Perfect To Me

I'm Sorry

Niall's P.O.V.

I stare repulsively at myself in the mirror. I don't see what the fans talk about.  I'm nothing, but an ugly, stupid, untalented, stupid excuse for a human being, and a no-good-friend-or-son. With the razor in my hands as I twirl it in between my index and thumb. Ignoring the pain that submits when the razor digs in my fingertips.

I've been putting this day off for far too long. It's time that I handled this up front. Sighing,  I bring the razor to my right wrist. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath. When I release, I bring the razor down and slice a cut. It's not to deep for blood to be prominent,  but enough to make a light pink line. I smile to myself as I bring it further down my wrist.

I take another deep breath and exhale. As I breathe, I slice. It's more deeper than the last one. Deep enough to see dots of blood start to ooze from it. The pain is not that bad, knowing I've done this before. Satisfied,  I bring the razor to my other hand, to draw on the other canvas; my wrist.

It's after about 30 minutes in the bathroom, I have two lines in my wrist. One slightly deeper than the other one. Content with my work I put my razor in a safe place so the other boys won't find them, and bandage myself up. They're pretty nosy. I give myself another disapproving look-over, and leave the bathroom.

I roll down my sleeves before anyone can notice the bandages. Successfully, I make it back to my room with no troubles.

I lay on my bed, and stare up at the ceiling.  As I look up at it, I can't help but think about my past life before One Direction, and my present life. And it suddenly has me sadden by it. Tears brimming the outline of my eyes. Threatening to fall.

The boys don't know about my depression,  and I don't intend on telling them anytime soon. They always seem to know, but I guess, not deciding to bring the topic up until I feel comfortable telling them. I'm thankful that they are giving me time to gather my courage and confront them.  If I didn't have these boys to help me, I don't know where I'd be. Probably dead, obviously.

I never wanted to being living this life. I used to always be bubbly and outgoing. But after....he happened,  it all went downhill.

~*♡ Flashback ♡*~

I walk down the halls, praying he won't notice me. Too late.

"Hey faggot. Where ya off to?" I don't reply, because I know he doesn't care. "Don't answer that, I wouldn't care anyway."

The first punch comes towards my head. As the pain comes along, all I can think about is my current situation. I did nothing to him, but he still wants to ruin my life.

His foot connects with my ribs, and I breathe out an agonizing breath. I groan out in pain.

Before he can hit me again, I look up to him and ask the burning question.

"Why? What did I ever do to you Peter?"

He looks at me with a hint of sympathy, and guilt, but it's gone before I can really see it. "Because. Faggots like you were not to be born, and I intend to put people like you in this world in their place. You should have never been born." With that he spits on me, and leaves me in the hall with a bruised eye, and a bruising stomach.

I huff, and get up from the floor in a struggle. It's the end of school, so everyone's gone.

I can't help but think about what he said. Did that mean he was a homophobe? Whatever it means, he shouldn't be treating me or anyone like that. Being gay is not a choice. It's who you are. Some people are ignorant and cant see that.

I continue my walk of shame to the front of the school. I don't have my license yet so I don't have a car. And I won't get it till next year. Sucks being in year 3 in high school and not have your licence. I'm such a sad excuse for a person.

Anyway, I continue my walk to my house. It's close to September, so the weather is chilling and the leaves are turning their colors. What I still can't get my head around is the reason Peter gave me for betting on me. It didn't sound right. The look he gave me before he left, proves he didn't really mean what he did. I do wonder what happens to him at home. Does he get pushed around, then comes to school to take it out on me? If that's the reason, that sounds way better than what he gave me at school.

I shake my head to rid myself of these thoughts, as I reach my front door. My mom doesn't know about the bullying because I cover myself up well. I don't know how I will surpass her judgment on my eye. When that moment comes, I will cross that bridge.

I see that my mom isn't home; victory dance, and head up the stairs to my room. I land on my bed and stare at my ceiling.

Oh how I wish my life was better than it is...

~*♡End of Flashback♡*~

"Niall- Niall? Niall!"

"Huh? Oh hey, what's up Liam?"

"Nothing, just wondering if you were hungry. I was thinking of going to get something," Liam asks me.

"No Li I'm fine. But thanks for asking. See ya when ya get back."

"Okay. Hey are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure...? We can talk if u want. My door is always open for you."

"Thanks Li for the offer. But really, I'm fine."

"Whatever you say," he said as he left my room.

No Liam I'm not fine. Please come back. I'm sorry...