What Lies Beneath (A Louis Tomlinson Fanfiction)

Chapter 1~Paramedics without a gurney? Wtf?

Hey Quackers,

^My pet name for me readers ;) Anyway, I hope you like this! Pleasee COMMENT, VOTE, AND FAN! It would mean the world to me <3 I love to read what everyone has to say, and don't worry. I can handle constrctive criticism, as long as you don't say, 'I hate it, go kill yourself' <Yea not sure how well I would take thatt o.O Dedication to niallers dirty mofo, because she's amazing, and I absolutely love all of her fanfctions...So here it is, Chapter 1

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Lyla P.O.V.-

I sat on the dock staring intently at the lake water. How perfect would it be to be a drop of water? Going unnoticed in the world, and not able to feel pain, or have memories stored away in your brain...I hung my feet in the refreshing water. I had always been in love with water since I was just a baby. The feeling of serentity you get when your arms glide through the effortlessly smooth liquid is probably the best feeling you could ever get. In the water, I feel free, invincible. Everything has to come to an end though, doesn't it? Eventually I always have to leave the beloved feeling of secureness that the lake holds.

My mind snapped back to reality as I heard a bang followed by curses coming from the cottage that me and my daddy live in. Most likely he's piss drunk again. Like always. I honestly can't remember the last time he was sober. Maybe before Muma died...No, even then Daddy had a drinking problem. I shouldn't even call him Daddy. He abuses me. Aside from that, I support both of us from the shitty job I have at Nando's. I'm the one who cooks and cleans, who picks up and recycles the nasty, empty beer cans left around the house. I sweep up the shatters of glass, from the nights when the drinking get really bad. And what does he do? Sits his sorry ass on the couch watching T.V. and drinking. So much drinking. I don't know how he can handle it. Not having control of your mind twenty-four-seven. I'd be sure to go insane.

"LYLAA!"

I hear his angered voice yell from the confines of the cottage. No doubt he's mad that I haven't cooked lunch yet. Not wanting to be beaten just yet though, I hastily draw my feet out of the water and slip my Flip-flops on. I do a once over of my outfit, and appearance in the body mirror I keep in the bath house outside, used for changing in and out of bathers.

My long and wavy brunette hair hangs over my shoulders, landing at my mid back. My hazel eyes are bright, but are rid of the sparkle that once shone in them before Muma died. Oh how I miss her...

I shook my head of the depressing thoughts that were clouding it. I hated feeling depressed. Most people in my situation would most likely be sad constantly and turn to the blade. Not me though. Cutting is a sign of weakness and of giving in to the acts of my father. If I were to be depressed and discouraged all the time, it would prove that he had broken me, and I couldn't possibly live with giving him that satisfaction. That's why I always looked to the bright side of things.

My light wash, ripped shorts made my legs look skinny and long, but that's not why I wore them. I don't care if guys even notice me. They would never be able to fall in love with me. I was used. Trash. No boy would ever want a girl like that.

My top consisited of a white singlet that said 'Never give up' in black cursice writing. My face was free of make up.

"LYLA GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!"

Oh no, he's pissed. Time to get out of here. I ran out to the road that we lived on and started to sprint to town. I would have to pay for this later. I don't know why I had been in such a hurry to leave. Normally I would just stay home and endure his harsh yelling, and abusiveness.