Love Hurts

1. Destruction

~Charlotte~

I refused to cry. Crying was for the weak, and I was never going to be weak. I couldn't let them see they had gotten to me. Although I doubt they cared.

"What the fuck are you doing? GET UP!" He screamed, slamming the door open. I jumped, but swallowed my surprise. I repressed any sobs, and stood up. 

"That's my girl." I winced, remembering who's girl I was supposed to be. Niall's. But he wasn't here right now.

I turned around, and looked at the man who abused me. Right in the eye.

"C'mon sweetheart, I have a work dinner in twenty minutes. Do you want me to go in a bad mood?" He crooned, his trousers already around his ankles. I knew there was no point in trying to fight it. However, I could rebel.

I spat straight in his face, then punched him in the nose. His head snapped back, and the force behind my punch was so great that he fell to the ground. I gasped, unsure if he was conscious or not. Apparently not.

"Sweet dreams, Daddy." I hissed, spitting in his face again, before slamming the door and locking it.

This was my life now. Not so long ago, I had an amazing boy. A boy whom I loved, and loved me back. Not anymore. All I had now, was abusive parents and a dead sister. What use was that?

I let myself cry thinking about Kate. That was allowed, right? She was my sister. And she had taken her own life. Because of our parents. You're probably judging me right now, because I sound so casual about it all. Trust me; there is nothing casual about the situation. But I've had to lie all my life, so it’s pretty easy. 

My father, Shane Williams, had the typical family man life to an outsider. He worked as an accountant, and earned a lot of money. His wife was the perfect little housewife. His daughter, Charlotte, got good grades in school and wasn't a troublemaker. The only blight on his spotless record was the tragic death of his youngest daughter, Kate, a few months ago.

As I said, to an outsider.

On the inside, he was cruel, manipulative and disgusting. His wife was terrified in her own house, unable to speak or move due to the horrors she had seen. His daughter, Charlotte, was traumatized and damaged beyond repair. His deceased daughter, Kate, was lucky. She had escaped.

I was born on a Thursday, 17 years ago. Next week is my birthday actually. I met Niall James Horan on the exact same date a year later. Niall Horan told me he loved me for the first time 7 years later. Niall Horan kissed me for the first time a year ago. I left Niall Horan a year ago.

These are the only dates in my life that have meaning.

I opened the front door of our house in Cheshire, slamming it behind me. It was around 8 o clock in the evening, and it was December, so I could barely see. I stomped over to my friend Sally's house, needing to escape for a few hours. I stopped for a minute outside her house, and exhaled. I let everything out, determined to forget before I knocked on her door. I opened my eyes and smiled. 

"You coming in then or what?" Sally blurted out, and I suppressed another smile. Not the most charming of people but I loved her all the same.

I ventured into her living and sat myself down. Sally leaned against the doorway.

"Want anything to eat or drink? You look wrecked, babe."

"No, thanks. Can I turn the telly on? Haven't seen anything in weeks." She nodded, and then walked into the kitchen. 

"Actually, babe, will you throw on X Factor? I wanna see who got through tonight. That One Direction band are fit." Sally called from the kitchen, and I obliged.