Simply Love (A One Direction Fan- Fic)

FYI, the * after a chapter means it's been edited with my hilarious comments.

If I had been a normal child, I would've dreamed about princesses and fairy god mothers when I was younger. (Ah, I see. Starting out with the traditional fairy tale theme. How cliche. Honestly I should delete this) But I've never been normal, so I didn't. Do you know what I dreamed about instead? A mother who loved and cared for me. Oh, yes. I'm positive you're thinking, 'she's you're mum. Of course she loves you!' (Still don't know why I even tried to use British slang. I'm horrible at it.) Oh, how I wish that was true. You see, I've been abused by my mother since I was four. (Blunt.) So, if you still think she loved me... Well, excuse me while I hold up my middle finger. (Horrible attempt at comedy) And if you were wondering, this is not all about how my mum abused me. No, this is my story. So, like all stories, let's start at the beginning. (Really? I thought we'd start at the end.)

I was walking home from school. This would be quite normal for some teenagers, but you see, this day had been crap for me. I was being bullied, and the constant insults and threats and shoves were becoming worse and worse. The teachers turned a blind eye, and my mum didn't care, so I was on my own. (Typical. Girl is bullied and abused, no one cares, blah blah blah. Same in every stinking fan fic)

Just like my entire life.

So, it really was no wonder I blew up that day. I had just gotten to the door, and I pushed it open to reveal a horrible sight.

My mother, with a guy, on the couch, both were half-naked naked. (How can someone be half-naked naked? Hmmmm?)

Horrible, I know. (Already said that, hon.)

I immediately shifted my gaze to the floor, but it did no good. The sight was burned into my mind, and my mother was not in a good mood to be caught doing it. (What, has she been in that mood before?)

"Get upstairs." She spat at me. (No hello? Rude mother!)

"Yes, mum." I muttered, heading towards the stairs. (Again with the slang? Ugh, shoot me.)

"Wait!" The man called, drawing my attention towards him. "Why don't we have a bit of fun instead?" He had a cruel smirk on his lips, and suddenly, I was afraid. (Noooo girl, be happy! Your mom's fling wants to beat you! Yay!!)

No, I wasn't afraid. I was terrified.

I suppose my mum had nodded her head, because next thing I knew he had pinned me to the wall. He drew back his fist and smashed it into my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, but I did not cry out. That showed weakness, and I was weak enough. (Ok, that is freaking impossible. He punched you, you're gonna make a sound.)

He slammed his fist into my body several times. Soon I was positive I had a black eye, a bloody and swollen lip, a cut on my cheek, and a bruise on my ribs. (Descriptive) But that didn't seem to be enough for him. He seemed to take pleasure in causing bruises to appear, so he made several more.

And when he was done, he shoved me to the ground and landed a kick to my ribs. He grabbed my mother by her arm, and they went to her room. I allowed myself a quiet groan of pain, but I picked myself up and managed to crawl up the stairs and into my room. I dragged myself to my bed, and sat on it. (... Ugh I hate this)

Was this all there was to life? Wake up, be insulted by mum, go to school, be insulted by teachers and pushed around by students, go home, get beaten by mum and one of her flings. Repeat. (Don't forget, you gotta poop!)

No, I decided. This will not be my entire life. I'm getting out, and I'm getting out today. One way or another. (ONE WAY OR ANOTHER I'M GONNA FIND YA, I'M GONNA GETCHA GETCHA GETCHA GETCHA!)

Nodding my head, I shuffled towards my window. I looked down and sighed.

Here goes nothing.

Gulping down my fear, I hopped out and landed skillfully on my feet. I beamed (Hey, I'm the freaking sun from the Telly Tubbies) at my accomplishment, then suddenly a thought struck me. (Ouch)

Why didn't I just use the front door?

I groaned as I realized my mistake, but it didn't matter. What's done is done. I looked back at my house once, and I felt a tear trickle down my face. (Why you crying? RUN!)

I'm sorry, dad.

Sighing, I began to run to what was hopefully a fresh start.

Oh, how wrong I was.

I ran, and I ran, and I ran. I ran until I reached an alley, (Typical alley) and I only stopped because I was afraid. Why? (Again with the fear? YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE TOUGH)

Girls get raped in alleys, and I've already had several horrid incident with boys. (More slang)

No sooner had I formed that thought when a warm, muscular body slammed against mine, pinning me to the wall. (Well, that was convenient)

Wow, I thought. Twice in one day. New record.

"Hey, babe." A young, and obviously drunk, man slurred. "I've been searching for ya." (I'M GONNA FIND YA)

"Let me go!" I yelled, struggling to get him off me.

He made a tut sound. "Now, now. Be a good girl, and I'll see what I can do. But until then..." He grinned maliciously (Ooh, nice vocab there) at me, and I got a horrible feeling. (DIARRHEA)

Too late did the warning bells go off. (DING DONG DING DONG) The next instant, he slammed my head against the brick wall, knocking me out cold.

And my last thought?

So much for a fresh start.

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AHAHAHA THAT WAS SO BAD LOL WHO CARES I'M TOO LAZY TO REWRITE