Finding a Happy Ending (Niall Horan Fanfic)

Chapter: 1 Why am I the One

Samantha's P.O.V

"Hello and welcome to Carlton's Chicken Hut. I am Samantha and I will be your waitress tonight." I brought my notepad out of my front pocket of the apron. "Can I start you off with something to drink?"

"Yeah," the chubby man with the thick mustache said. "I would like a cup of coffee." I wrote it down in my notepad. And when I mean write, I mean draw a picture of a coffee cup with steam coming out of it. I was more into symbols then into writing. Plus, I couldn't spell coffee.

"Okay. And you sir?"

The other man with the sunglasses on indoors and a potbelly made my job simple. "Make that two please." Times 2 right next to the cup. 

"Alright. I will be right back with your coffees." I shoved my notepad back into my apron. Who orders two coffees at night at a chicken place? I swear, some people.
I walked past the dining area and into the kitchen. I swung open the kitchen doors and shouted, "Two coffees!" I was famous around the restaurant for shouting. It never got old to see the cooks jump at the sound of my voice. 

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I was exhausted from work. I unlocked and flung open the door to my studio apartment and ran over to the part of the one room apartment that was my living room. I dove over the arm of my couch and fell onto the old couch I stole off the corner by some garbage. I mean hey, it looked like someone was throwing away a perfectly good couch, why not help out the less fortunate and take the couch for myself?

I buried my face into the dingy red sofa. Why was I condemned to working at a mini KFC hut? Because I needed money. Why did I need money? Because I needed to pay for my life at the fine age of seventeen. Why did I have to pay for my own life at the age of seventeen? Because in my book, family doesn't exist. Why not go to college and get a better paying job? I can't get into college without a high school diploma, plus it is damn too expensive. 

I felt tears forming in the corner of my eyes, so I wiped my face against the couch cushion. I sometimes liked to torment myself, whether it be playing a million questions with myself or teasing myself about my life. I was my own bully sometimes, but no matter who it is, bullying slowly kills a person. Why am I the one always picking on myself?

I turned my head to the side and rested on the couch. I could see my mattress in the far corner of the room, and I could see my radio that sat right in front of me on a dinky T.V. dinner table. I felt tears reappear in the buds of my eyes. I knew I was attempting to cry because what sat before my eyes was depressing. All I could see in my one room apartment was my radio, my mattress sitting on the floor covered with my grandmother's old quilt and no pillow in sight, a simple lawn chair that sat right next to the T.V. dinner table the radio was on, and a simple pattern-less brown rug that was at the foot of my mattress. That was all I could afford? I questioned myself.
That's all I can afford. I told myself.

I held back the tears. I did this everyday. I made myself upset and cried almost everyday. Why? God only knows why I am so mean to myself. I am my own worst enemy, and therefore I hate myself. 

I held back the tears everyday, but knowing the daily routine, and knowing myself, I was going to end up at the end of the night wearing myself out and crying until I passed out. But before I can even start crying, I always find ways to soothe myself. I take a quick brisk walk outside of the apartment building, cool off, then I come back inside and do the unthinkable. To calm myself I have found a tactic I would never recommend to anyone else. I take my shaving razor and cut around my stomach.

It always bleeds, I am human. And really the only way I know I am still a person is by feeling pain and bleeding. It is how I know I am still normal, how I can still be human. It proves to me I am alive, I can still feel and do things. I usually get emotional afterwards, and it all spirals down from there. I start asking myself horrible questions and end up crying. I cry until I choke, then I continue. From there I wrap myself up in my quilt that still smells faintly of my grandmother, and the thought of her and my family sends me overboard. I cry until I pass out. I know it can't be heatlhy, but I can't see anyone about it.
I can't afford unhealthy. 

I got up from the couch and headed towards my front door. I needed a quick, nice walk outside and back. I needed to clear away my bad thoughts. Just to get some fresh air. 

Just to get some fresh air.