Diana [One Direction Fan Fiction]

Chapter One: My Life

My life is pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. I have one friend and no family. I barely can support myself, living on my own. I literally have $10 dollars in my bank account right now and barely any food in the refrigerator, but, because of my anorexia, I don't spend as much. I only shop at Goodwill, don't have a phone, and can't afford makeup, even from WalMart. By far, though, the worst part of my life is the fact that I'm in highschool. And, for the record, highschool sucks. Especially when you're me.

To everyone in my class, I'm the ugly, quiet girl. To everyone I sit with a lunch, I am an outcast. To everyone in my school, I'm a freak. To everyone in my town, though, I'm a mystery. No parents, no cousins, no aunt or uncles, and no grand parents. I'm alone right now. Except for the one friend, April, I have. And, of course, the people who aren't there but are at the same time. They talk to me. Sometimes they're mean and sometimes they're nice. Mostly mean, though. People call them my 'imaginary friends' but I call them the only people you can trust in this sad world. 

When I was younger, I had real friends, but when my parents died, I lived as a hermit. Secluded from the world for one year of my life. I was 12 when this happened, so I had to redo a grade. That's why I'm supposed to graduate high school this year. I acted like the house was abandoned, so no one would take me to another family. The house went on the real estate market once, but it was kind of obvious that no one wanted to buy this dump I live. My home is literally a little wooden shack with a two super small bedrooms, a kitchen and a bathroom.

The trauma I went through as a twelve year old was unthinkable. I cried myself to sleep every night. There were new mascara marks on my pillow case every night. I was drowning in my sorrows. Still am, but it isn't as bad now. All the other girls my age wanted makeup and real bras for Christmas that year, but I just wanted someone. Someone to love. Someone who would hold me and tell me it's going to be ok. Someone who could save me. I'm broken now. And no one can fix me. No one can save me. 

I work at a Burger King when I'm not at school or volunteering at a dog shelter. On my last birthday, I was officially allowed by the state to live alone, even though I wasn't a legal adult. I have a neighbor who checks in on me every few days and is my legal guardian. She's nice, I suppose. She fixes me dinner sometimes and even bakes me cookies. But, she obviously only does this stuff because the state of Alabama (my home state) pays her a small sum of money each month.

Trying to balance school, work and voulenteering is hard work. I literally get 4 hours of sleep on school nights. And that's when I don't have much homework. Everyone says it's bad for me, but I don't mind much. It's not like I don't sleep in on the weekends. I do. I also visit my parents' graves on Sundays. I normally bring a single wildflower for each of their graves, since the flowers grow in our back yard.

The worst part of my life is, even though I have April, I don't have any one to love me. No one wants to date the hot mess I am. No one can ever love the thing I've turned into. I remember being young and having a boyfriend. He was awesome. He was nice and funny and hot. The full package. Then, when I disappeared, he forgot about me and ditched me for the perky, blonde cheerleader type. I cannot stand them. 

I have dark-brown, shoulder length hair and asymetrical bangs. I have purple eyes (weird, right) and darkly tanned skin, with rectangular glasses from when I was 11. My smile is crooked, since I was going to get braces before my parents died and now I can't afford them, and I'm the tallest girl in all my classes. So, yes, I am a bit of an 'ugly duckling'.

Another thing about me is the fact that I'm emo. And, personally, there's nothing wrong with that. I have learned that the emo community can be comforting. Not everyone's had it as bad as me, but they understand. April's emo. That was how I met her. On a website I was screwing around on during school in the library. We were on some website for depression at the same time during school and what I didn't realize is that she was using the computer across from me. Even though April is a great friend/person, I can't tell her everything about me. I don't who they are and I don't care when it is, but no one will ever be able to know all my secrets. No one will ever understand them. And, I think I can live and die with that.

The only things that can make me happy in my life are April and One Direction. I know, I know. Being emo and liking One Direction... weird right? Well, deal with it. I like the boys, but I'm not obsessed or anything. I'm just a simple fan. I really don't care if you judge though. I'm used to it. The scars on my arms prove that.

When I say 'scars on my arms' don't think I self-harm my way through my problems. I don't. I just used to. I don't know if it was out of pure boredom or depression. I swore to never do it again, though. I can be as sad as I want, but I refuse to self harm. I will never take a blade/anything sharp to my body ever again.

I miss my parents really bad today. Today was the day they got in the car crash. The day they died physically and I died spiritually. I really don't plan on doing much today. I haven't even gotten dressed yet and it's 12:00 PM.

I walked to my closet and grabbed my newest and overall best find from Goodwill; A red lace cutoff short sleeve shirt with a white tank top under it. I put on the fanciest bottoms I owned; A pair of black jeanst (just because I'm emo doesn't mean I dress goth, I mean, there is a difference, but most people assume it's the same thing.) 

I laced up my converse high-tops and ran out the back door and picked two pink wild flowers. Perfect, I thought. Pink is a perfect color for people who deserve happiness. And my parents were those people. They weren't perfect, but they did what they could with the small amount of money we owned.

I ran around the side of the house to the drive way, where my parents' old wrecked, but still usable, car was. I hopped into my parents' old 2004 white Explorer and drove down the street, to the cemetary. I jumped out of the car, flowers in hand, and found the Whitmans' graves. My parents.

I bowed my head and silently said a little prayer hoping they were in a better place. As I placed my flowers down on the headstones, my eyes watered. Suddenly, I started sobbing. I bawled and bawled until I couldn't cry any more and got back into the car and drove away. Besides, it's a Saturday and I have to work a 10-hour shift at Burger King. The (kill) joys of life. How I hate them so. Especially the kill joys in my life.

 As I drove home, changed into my blue Burger King monogrammed shirt, put my hair in a messy bun, and ran out the door, I continued to cry. Apparently the tears weren't going to stop.  I'm glad I can't afford makeup because, at this point, I would be even more of a mess if I had any on. Maybe next paycheck I'll be able to afford the Mabeline water-proof mascara they sell at Walmart, but, for now, I'm broke.

I pulled up to Burger King five minutes late. I ran through the door, only to find my boss, Carl, waiting for me."Five minutes late, Diana,"He said furiously, tapping his watch,"This can't happen again or your fired!" I nodded. I really don't get the importance of five minutes. I'm not a doctor or something. Well, I guess I really could never be a doctor, since I don't have the ability to even save myself.

I walked behind the counter top and up to the register. I pulled one of the extra aprons on over my uniform and helped the first customer in line, who was surprisingly cute.

"Hello,"I said at the cute blonde boy with the bright blue eyes, smiling,"Welcome to Burger King. What can I do for you?" He first looked at my face in a pleasant way, as if he was hitting on me. Then, he grinned,"Can I have a #3 please, with a side of you?" I laughed,"I can get you that #3, but I don't date guys I just met." He glared at me sarcastically,"Can I at least give you my number?" I nodded as he scribbled ten digits ona sheet of paper. 

I got him his order, took his money and gave him his receipt. He gave me a $50 tip! This guy's loaded."What's your name?" I shouted at him as he ran out the door."Niall,"He said with a smirk,"Niall Horan." 

I thought for a minute. I'm pretty sure I know that name. Hmmm. I guess I'll Google it on my dad's old laptop when I get home. For now, though, I have got to get to work. 

 A/N

Read, vote and comment please! 

~Liv