one direction prefrences

Knives part two

Knives part two

Here is the much requested part two

Harry - "lets go home, yeah?" Harry asked softly

"No" you said pushing him away, wiping your nose on your hand and pulling at your sleeves trying to straighten yourself out.

"Come on baby, I'm begging. It was a mistake - a stupid one. But now I realise that I may actually loose you I can't even, I just, please baby. One more chance. That's all I ask" Harry now begged getting down on his knees in front of you and crying.

"No Harry" you said firmly trying to stand your ground

"Baby please, look into my eyes. Look and see how truly sorry I am" he whimpered getting up and holding your face with his two large hands to look directly into his eyes. "Look at how broken I am, without you. I can't go on like this baby, please. I'm begging for you" he whispered, his voice hoarse as the tears were now falling off his chin and onto his shirt.

"O-okay" you stuttered nodding, Harry smiled ear to ear and held you tight, inhaling your scent. He was sorry, and he did love you - you saw it, in his eyes

*HIS POV*

I held onto her firmly and sighed, I nearly lost her. I can't though. I need her, she's my little money maker. Our relationship is the thing that keeps me in the magazines constantly. Every time we do something cute that's my name on that head line, that's more money in my bank account.

I opened my eyes and looked over y/ns shoulder to see Eleanor there scolding at me. She knew my plan, I could tell - that or she just didn't like me. Either way I intended on rubbing it in her snotty little face. I smirked at her and let my hand drop from y/n waist.

"I love you baby" I hummed, grinning evilly at y/ns best friend,

"I love you more" Y/n chuckled

"I love you most" I concluded, letting my hand travel to her butt and giving it a firm squeeze earning a squeak from her and causing Eleanor to flair her nostrils and stomp out of the room.

Zayn - every night Zayn would have to run down to the kitchen and stop you from getting to the knife drawer. He did everything to stop you; he locked the bedroom and kitchen door, he taped up the knife drawer, he slept in the kitchen. But none of it worked. Every night you would walk down stairs and grab a knife to try and hurt yourself, hoping it would take some of the pain away. You weren't awake when you did it - you were sleepwalking. it wasn't your mind that wanted you to do it, it was your conscience. 'You killed the baby, it was your fault he died, no one else's- so you should kill yourself in return.'

Zayn felt the only way to stop you from doing this every night in your sleep was to send you to therapy.

"So Mr Malik, would you care to explain what's happening?" The doctor said lowering his glasses to look at you two.

"Well, a few weeks ago our baby was declared dead and y/n will have to give birth to him dead. Ever since she's been sleep walking into our kitchen and going into the knife drawer, hoping to hurt herself to get rid of the pain" he said kissing your shoulder and rubbing your stomach.

"I see" he said jotting something down. "I think it is nothing more than I psychological problem.." He began, making you scoff

"Nothing more" you mocked. You felt a psychological problem was a pretty big deal

"And after she delivers the child the problem will go. The child is a constant reminder of what she feels is her mistake, which it isn't might I add, so when it is out of her body she will stop these night time activities" the doctor concluded.