My Walls Are Up For A Reason (Niall Horan Fan Fiction)

Chapter 2: Fighting Shows Character

Hey people! I’m so glad people are reading this! Also I want to thank directioner122 for commenting, it was so nice! I love reading comments; also if you comment I’ll be sure to reply! I love talking to people, encase you haven’t noticed. Ok, this chapter introduces a new character, which is Sammy, who just so happens to be directioner122, yeah I love her! DON’T JUDGE! Anyway I planned on dedicating this chapter to her as well considering this is the first part where her character comes in, but after this I’ll be sure to dedicate to other people as well, so if I like your comment I’ll probably dedicate the next chapter to you. BTW if you have any ideas for other chapters I would LOVE to hear them! Just send me a message or hit me up with a chat! Thanks, anyway this was longer than I had planned for it to be, so there probably won’t be an author’s note at the end of this, well we’ll just have to see. Anyway let’s get started!

 ~Katie

 ~Vote if you're actually reading my author’s notes, yeah I know they’re long sorry

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~Kacey’s P.O.V~ 

I woke up to the sun light flooding through my window shades. I had to quickly close my eyes, the light being too bright for me to open my eyes just yet. I slowly opened my eyes again as they adjusted to the light illuminating my room.

I sat up in my bed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I had gotten home rather late last night, and I was exhausted, I’m sure you know why. I made my way to my bathroom, brushing a strand of my hair, which had fallen into my eyes, with my hand as I went. I looked in the mirror as I entered the bathroom. I had dark circles under my eyes and my once hazel eyes were now a dark milk brown color.

 I sighed as I proceeded to undress and climbed into the shower. I winced as the water hit the wound on my wrist. I looked at it as blood slowly trickled down my wrist, reopening the wound. Soon it too would be a scar like the many others along my wrist. I brought it up to the shower head as I rinsed it, waiting for it to slowly stop bleeding.

 I quickly finished my shower and began to get dressed. I made my way over to my dresser and began looking through the clothes I had trying to pick out something suitable. I had several vibrant colored shirts along with skinny jeans to match. Most of them were stripes, Louis had gotten me stuck on them a while ago, but now as I look at the widely assortment of clothes I felt a pang of sadness. Before my mom died I would have worn any of these clothes, but looking at them now, none of them reflected my true feelings, only reminding me of how fake my life had truly become.

 I quickly pushed the thought away as I put on a pair of green skinny jeans, and a blue and white stripped v-neck, quarter sleeved shirt. I also slipped on a pair of white high-top converse, as I made my way over to my mirror. I brushed my naturally curly hair, as I swiped my side bangs to the left. After I had finished I grabbed my backpack and stuck my phone, which was on my bedside table, into my pocket, and then made my way down stairs.

 As I entered the kitchen I made my way to the fridge. I was about to open it until I noticed a sticky note stuck to the front, with writing on it. I took the note off the fridge and began reading it.

 I went out to a friend’s. I won’t be back before you’re up so you’ll have to fix breakfast yourself. Also try not to break anything while I’m gone. Your father called last night but you were out, so he said he would call later. Don’t skip school.     -Mom

I cringed at the word Mom. No matter how many times she tells me she’s my mother, I will never accept her as such. She didn’t give birth to me, and she most certainly does not act like a mother should. She’s one of the reasons I think I’m a waist of space, a pathetic person, she’s why I cut. Well one of the reasons I cut.