It's The Little Things That Count (Harry Styles FanFic)

Annie's Background...

Annie:

I just don’t get it. Why am I the one who people choose to pick on? I’m just the same as them, a part from my weight of course. Actually, now I think about it I’m completely different. They wear Hollister jumpers, I wear plain Primark hoodies. They wear revealing shorts, I wear baggy jeans. They wear false eye lashes and tango themselves with fake tan five shades darker than reality, and I wear nothing, but a thin layer of moisturiser. I can see why they torture me, day in, day out. Who wouldn’t target the chubby, quiet girl who sits in her own on the corner, never dares to raise her hand in class, and certainly would even try socialising.

“Oi, fatty! Come over here!” I shuffle in the spot I’m standing in, and I slowly glance in the direction of the speakers, my bullies.

“Bloody hell, she’s either deaf, or is so fat that her body can’t function to make her legs move.”

“Or she’s just a chicken!” My eyes fill with tears, as I try my hardest to prevent them from overflowing, as my surrounding tormenters are either imitating a chicken noise, or laughing hysterically at the others. I close my eyes, double checking that I’m not having a nightmare-didn’t think so. This is reality all right.

I get shoved between college kids as I try to escape from the tight grips of the bullies. They clearly knew my tactics, as every time I attempted a swoop under an arm, a fist plunged into my jaw. The crowd dragged me out into the alleyway opposite the college, and as I was thrown to the ground, I was attacked brutally. I was punched, kicked and shouted at until my entire body was in severe pain and I became unconscious. However, before I drifted off into a completely different world, I heard one thing.

“She’s a fat, pathetic freak. I think I’m going to make this a regular thing. It’s not like she has a life worth living for, so I might as well make it hell.” It was the voice of one of the most famous boy band members’ ex-girlfriends. Molly Smith.

The following day:

I woke up in the ally way early this morning, around 4am. I dragged my scratched and bruised body across the street and slowly turned the key in the lock of my filthy apartment, being self-conscious and cautious not to wake up my frequently drunk dad. The consequences could be fatal if he lost his temper now, as I was already in pain and was shattered after a night full of agonising pain.

YES! I had managed to creep past my passed out father, and I wondered if that was how awkwardly and mentally retarded I looked when I was left unconscious in the street. As soon as my head touched my pillow on my bed, I was out like a light. I didn’t go to school that day, as my body was too visibly damaged, and it would be obvious to everyone how weak and pathetic I really am.

“ANNIE! GET OFF YOUR ******* BED AND GET YOUR ******* ARSE DOWN THE ******* STAIRS RIGHT NOW!”

I leaped out of bed, forgetting about the damage that my bullies had caused the previous day. I moaned in pain as I pulled on a navy blue hoody, and my leggings. I sprinted down the stairs (although my sprinting is about as fast as my reflexes, and by looking at my battered face, you can see how good they are) and tripped around the corner into the revolting kitchen, full to the brim with unwashed dishes, mouldy fruit, and empty beer bottles.

“Finally! If you are this slow next time, then you’re gonna get it. Hard. I need more beers for tonight so go down the shop and get some for me.” I hesitated slightly, but it was clearly noticeable, as my father slapped his hand across my swollen face. “NOW!” He finished, before storming out of the room to watch Jeremy Kyle. I ran out of the door, wearing only the rough clothes that I threw on earlier, and I also slid into some trainers, which my bullies claimed were ‘granny trainers’.

Holy crap. I totally forgot about that. The shop is where Molly Smith and her crew hung out after school, picking on innocent school kids, just for the fun of it. I’m an even more popular victim, and I’m gonna get my head kicked in. Literally. I stuck my head down, and tried not to get noticed, but they know me all too well, they always look for the quiet ones.

“Oi! Look at little Annikins, all dressed in a dustbin bag and her granny trainers!” I heard a few snickers coming from Molly’s friends, which made me cringe, as this means it would be at least three against one. This means I could die. Oh dear maybe I should turn ba--- The next thing I knew, I was being dragged away..