One Direction Preferences! (Book 1)✔

#194. Your Child Is Getting Bullied

Your Child Is Getting Bullied

Louis: You walked into your thirteen year old daughter (y/d/n)’s room.  She had run off the bus and into her room as soon as she got home from school, and you and Louis were getting worried about her.  "(y/d/n)?" you asked quietly, seeing her laying with her face buried in the pillows.  You waited for her to respond, but she didn’t.  You walked up and sat down on the edge of her bed and began stroking her back.  "(y/d/n)… sweetie, tell me what’s going on." you say, and your daughter sits up and wipes away her tears quickly.  "Nothings going on." she mutters.  "You’re lying.  Tell me, and dad and I will make it better. Promise.”  you comfort her, and the tears well up in her eyes again.  "You can’t!" she cries, as she bursts out sobbing.  You pull her close to you, letting her cry on your shoulder, as Louis pokes his head in the room, with an anxious look on his face.  After an hour of talking to her and comforting her, you and Louis leave her to talk on your own.  "I can’t believe anyone would be so mean to her." he murmurs, and you look over and see tears welling in his eyes.  "Oh, Lou!" you pull him into a hug and he sobs silently into your shoulder.  "The day she was born, I promised to protect her. I guess I’m not doing a very good job…" he trails off.  "No, Louis." you say, staring into his eyes.  "We’re going to get through this.  We’re going to make things right for her.”

Harry: You greeted your eight year old son (y/s/n) as he walked through the door, but he didn’t respond, simply shoving past you and making his way up to his room.  You follow him up, worried.  "(y/s/n)?" you knock lightly on his door.  "What?!" he yells.  "Can I talk to you, buddy?" you ask, and he doesn’t reply, so you gingerly open the door and look in to see him sitting on the edge of his bed.  "(y/s/n)… what’s going on?" you ask, sitting down next to him.  He remains silent, and you begin brushing his curly hair off his face.  You notice a purple bruise on the side of his head, and you let out a gasp.  "What… what happened?" you ask in horror.  "It’s the same thing every day," he says, "Dave and Freddy trip me as I walk in the bus, then they shove me during recess.  Sometimes Dave punches me, then Freddy joins in kicking me.”  Tears well up in your eyes, and (y/s/n) immediately notices that his words are upsetting you. "But that’s only sometimes, mama!" he says, trying to make you feel better.  "B-baby… why didn’t you tell me?" you ask, pulling him close to you and pressing him tightly against your body.  "Because, they told me if I told anyone they’d make it even worse! Please don’t tell anyone mama! Please!" he cries, and the tears begin to slide down your cheeks.  You hold your son in silence, stroking his hair as he tightly grasps onto your hand with his smaller one.  You hear the door open and shut as Harry enters the house.  "I’m home everyone!" he called out, but neither of you had the strength to get up and answer him.  "Jese, no need to get excited." he said sarcastically.  "Seriously, where are you two? (y/s/n)? (y/n)?! You’re getting me worried!"  You finally muster up some strength to call down to him.  "Harry! We’re in (y/s/n)’s room!"  He jogs over to his sons room, and looks in at the two of you in shock.  "Sit." you instruct him, and he sits down next to you and (y/s/n).  "What’s going on?" he asks, and you have (y/s/n) explain everything to him as he listens.  You feel bad for your husband, seeing a look of anger and shock on his face, replacing his normally bright and cheery one.  In fact, he seemed to take it even worse than you.  He marched out of the room without a word, you heard him making several phone calls, but you couldn’t quite make out what he was saying.  Eventually, he walked back in the room.  "Those boys shouldn’t give you anymore trouble. But, (y/s/n),” he said, looking straight into your sons eyes, “If either of them ever touch you again, just tell me, and I’ll take care of it myself.”

Zayn: It was a rare occasion for Zayn to get mad at your son, but this was one of those rare moments. Your ten year old son, (y/s/n), had super glued his teacher’s shoes to the ceiling (I don’t know).  Although Zayn had initially laughed when he heard this, after getting a firm talking to from the principal and a bill from the teacher (it turned out they were some really expensive shoes), his cheery mood had disappeared to one that was a bit more grim.  "I already know dad, it was bad and I won’t do it again! Mum and the principal already yelled at me, I don’t need to hear it a third time!"  He huffed, storming out of the room.  "You’re not going anywhere until you listen to me!"  Zayn yelled, and grabbed his sons arm.  (y/s/n) let out a sharp yelp and dropped to the floor, rubbing his arm. Zayn immediately softened seeing his precious son in pain. "Come on buddy, I didn’t grab you that hard."  (y/s/n) remained silent, and Zayn rolled up his shirt sleeve. His jaw dropped when he saw an ugly blue and purple bruise on (y/s/n)’s arm.  "Did… Did I do that?" Zayn asked, and (y/s/n) shook his head no.  "No, it’s… it’s just some boys on my football (soccer) team. Sometimes they tackle me when we’re not in practice.  They say I need to toughen up or I’ll never be a good player.”  (y/s/n) said, tears beginning to stream down his face.  Zayn picked up your son and set him down on the sofa in your living room, and called you on your phone.  After explaining everything to you, it took everything you had not to burst out crying over the phone.  "Why would anyone do that to him?" you whispered, and Zayn’s voice quivered.  "I don’t know… I’m such an idiot, how could I not notice? I’m taking him off that team, reporting those boys and calling their parents.  I’m never going to let him get hurt again.”

Liam: "(y/d/n)!" you called out your 16 year old daughters name and knocked on her door.  You didn’t receive a response, so figuring that she must be somewhere else, you opened the door.  You gasped and dropped the laundry basket you were holding at the sight you were met with.  It was your daughter, her ear buds in, blasting a Marilyn Manson song, while her razor sliced her arm.  You ran over to her and smacked the razor out of her hands, and she immediately yanked her earbuds out.  "Mum…" she whispered, as tears began to form in both of your eyes.  "Why?" you choked out, pulling her into a tight hug.  "I… it just… made me feel better." she said softly.  "Everyone at school is so mean, and… I don’t know."  You took her over to the bathroom, cleaning her up, before going downstairs to talk to Liam.  His face paled as soon as you told him, and he ran upstairs, wrapping his baby girl in a loving embrace.  "You should have told me. You know I’d do anything for you." he said in a low voice, softly tracing her cuts. "I’m going to make this better, sweetheart. I promise, baby."

Niall: Your ten year old daughter had been acting strange all day long, and every time you tried asking her about what was wrong, she shot you down with a quick “I’m fine.”  She’d always been a daddy’s girl, so you went into Niall’s office/music room, where he was working on scribbling out some lyrics on a sheet of paper.  "Niall, can you talk to (y/d/n) for me? She seems really upset…" you sighed, and Niall immediately got up.  "Of course darling… what do you think is going on?" he asked, and you shrugged your shoulders. Niall walked down to where your daughter was sulking.  "Hey princess.  What’s going on? Mum told me you were feeling a little down…?”  he said, wrapping his arm around her, as she sunk into his side, burying her head into his shoulder.  "All my friends hate me now.  I don’t even know why, they all ignore me, and they all roll their eyes and walk away whenever I try to talk to them.” she said, in a barely audible whisper.  "What?" he exclaimed, looking down at her.  "That’s so dumb!" She looked up at him surprised. "They must be jealous of you.  You are gorgeous, smart, and a wonderful person.  If you want, I can take you out of that school.  I think they’re just jealous though.  They should be, too!  If I were you, I’d talk to your mum.  She went through some stuff like that when she was your age too.”  He said, and you walked in, and after a long conversation, your daughter soon felt much better.

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A/N: If you see anyone around being bullied or bullied by someone or even you, yourself...Please just dont sit and stare. Stand Up and fight for it....

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