violet's story • h.s (completed)

-Chapter-

Locked in my room, alone thinking of the day that will haunt me for the rest of my days. I sliced my wrist, a clean cut that was perfectly straight, leaving the pain lift through the air that bubbled in my veins. I laughed as I did more cuts, more scars, less pain.

My wrists began to ache as I cut slightly deeper. My demons encored me to cut more, but I stopped, a sudden memory came, a memory that I totally forgot.

I dashed into my closet.

Please forget that I promised- my thought was cut off by my bedroom door opening.

"Violet-" my mother's sweet voice called. I felt tears start to come to my eyes.

"Vio-"

"Mother," I step out of the closet. "I-I'm sorry, deeply sorry." I let my tears fall as I pulled up my sleeves. "I kept cutting, I'm sorry mother. I couldn't help it, I hope you understand," I said as I stared at my bleeding arms. My mother pulled them, forcing me to get up. She sat me on the side of the bathtub. She ran a cloth under the water and tabbed my left arm first.

My breath gets caught in my throat due to pain. I relax when she is done with both arms.

"Now, my dear. I ran into Simon-" I cut my mother off.

"I hate him, dear," I mocked sourly.

"I know, I know. I told him who I was, and he looked quite sad and wants you to see him tomorrow," she handed me a card and I instantly felt butterflies.

Maybe one more chance wouldn't hurt.. I thought with a slight smile. I ran into my room and pinned the card to my board.

Here we go again Simon. Round two, I thought.

* * * THE NEXT MORNING * * *

I was fully wake after walking outside, skipping to his studio.

Once I reached the studio, I grabbed the handle of the tinned door and the door must of hate me, it swung at me; hitting my forehead.

"Ouch!" I said, closing my eyes tightly as felt my forehead with my wrist. It felt warm and sweaty. I pulled my wrist back to view it; blood, everywhere.

"I'm sorry, but you were in my-" a strangely familiar voice said. "B-blood!"

"What? It's just a little-" I looked up to see Harry Styles, famous curly sexy man, that was plastered on every wall.

"You again," I said with a evil laugh. "You took my place. How could you?!" Remembering his voice at the.. place that will haunt me.

"What are you talking about?!" Harry yelled confused.

"You took my fame! I remember your voice, I don't listen to your shitty music! You took my fa-" I was cut off by Harry.

"Shut up! Okay? I don't give a bloody fuck that I took your fame, look at you! You weren't made for it anyways!" Harry yells as he helps me up. "I'm sorry, I don't know what got into me." Harry says.

"You really are bipolar or something Styles. I'm sorry, though. Your music isn't that shitty," I laugh.

"Hey! My music is perfection. So anyways, what'cha doing here?" Harry asks me. I pull out a card.

"Simon wanted me to see him today. Do you know where he is?" I ask.

"I'll show you," Harry smiled, "but first let's get you a bandaid for your forehead." Harry said grabbing my hand, pulling me along.