Princess (Ziam)

LOUIS' POV TITLE AND EXCERPT:

Hello, everyone!

So, as you may know, I am planning Louis' POV after Zayn's is complete. I asked for some titles previously and got some great ideas. Some are from you all and some are from me. Vote beside your favorite title idea!

1. Amour

2. Devoted (or devotion)

3. Hidden

4. Him

5. Caged

6. Savior

7. Angel

8. Overcome

9. Ease (Troye Sivan inspired)

10. Out

I also have a short excerpt here from Louis' story. Let me know what you think!

Excerpt:

**

I walked through the middle school hallways, wishing I was anywhere but school. My eyes still felt dry and puffy from sobbing the night before. I didn't really know what a broken heart felt like, but I did know what it felt like to be humiliated and used.

My mum asked me what was wrong, but I didn't know how to tell her. Not yet. It was far too soon, and I was so ashamed of how idiotic I was.

His name was Aiden, and he was the latest disappointment in a long line of trial and error. He was all broad shoulders and dark eyes, like a tower or a large wall. He wasn't exactly smart, but I was willing to forgive that because he seemed interested in me, and I was foolish enough to believe that his interest was real. I should have known he had a goal in mind. Didn't they all?

When we were alone, he would shower me with attention, though not necessarily affection. He would tell me that I was attractive, but he never really made me feel that his words were true. But when I allowed his hands to roam my body, I felt wanted; desired. And even though he grew angry when I would stop our actions, confessing that I wasn't ready to go all the way-- I was bloody fourteen years old to his seventeen, believing it made me special that someone older wanted me-- I just brushed it off as his sexual frustrations.

When we were out, however, he would pretend he didn't know me. When he introduced me to his friends, it wasn't as his boyfriend. I was a friend, or a co-worker, or his mum's friend's kid, sometimes I was even the kid he supposedly babysat. And I let it slide because I knew he wasn't out yet, but then things went too far.

I said no again, stopping his wandering hands from finding their way into my pants, and he gave out a frustrated sigh before pushing me away from him. I still remember the nasty snarl in his voice as he spoke.

"I thought you were a fucking fag. What good is it to pretend to like you when you won't even put out?"

I was stunned, left silent as I backed away from him and listened to him throw more words at me, verbally abusing who I was. He claimed he wasn't gay, that he just wanted a quick fix to his problems, and I just seemed so willing when we met, but I wasn't worth all of the effort he was putting in. I told him that I flirted back that day because he started it. From there, he began to rip into me, naming every single one of my flaws and leaving me more insecure than before.

How my hair was always a mess, how I always looked tired, how my lips were too thin, my smile wasn't pleasant to look at, my voice was too scratchy and airy, my body was too flabby, my thighs too fat, and my hands were too small to actually put any work in.

Then came the final blow.

"Not like I wasn't fucking other people on the side anyways. Have a nice life knowing that nobody's ever going to want your ugly ass." With that, he barged out of the room we were in at the party, and he didn't return.

He tried calling the next day, but I blocked his number immediately, vowing to never spend another second thinking about him, though that proved challenging. After all, he was the reason I cried for a whole night, his words playing on repeat in my mind as I avoided the mirror and poked at my stomach, wondering if he was right and I was too flabby for anyone to love.

My mum always told me that beauty came in many shapes and sizes, and I believed her. I saw beauty in everyone, so why was I questioning it now? Why did his words seem so true?

I made a quick stop at the restroom to wash my face and hope it helped my red, cried-out eyes before looking for my best mate, Zayn.

Normally we met by the front of the school, but he wasn't there for some reason. I waited for twenty minutes this morning, but he never arrived, so I figured he must have been inside already. I tried to remember whether he had any work to make up or a teacher to talk to, but I didn't recall him ever speaking about anything of the sort.

So, I walked down the halls, clinging to the strap of my school bag on my shoulder as I pushed passed crowds of people. Middle school wasn't all that I thought it would be, and it made me wonder if high school would disappoint me as well. I would find out within a year.

I continued my search for Zayn as I walked down the halls, and I let out a small "woah" as I turned the corner and walked into someone. I looked at the person, seeing a teary-eyed Liam standing in front of me.

I knew him. Of course I did. We've been going to school together since kindergarten, and he was always so nice. Recently, he was also the talk of the school after he came out as gay-- the only person to actually come out.

I envied him, feeling so free and unafraid to be who he was. I just couldn't bring myself to say the words aloud yet, not when my self-esteem was already so low due to the many partners I've had that never seem to work out.

I opened my mouth, about to ask if he was alright, but he looked down at the ground and whimpered out a "sorry" before walking around me and rushing down the hall, his hand holding onto his cheek the whole time-- as if someone hit him there.

I wanted to chase after him. There were so many things I wanted to talk to him about, so much that I wanted to ask him, but I was too much of a coward to mention any of it. I didn't want to admit that I constantly fell for people who were scumbags and cheaters; that I allowed them all to manipulate me so easily. Because none of them were ever proud of me or of themselves.

So, I kept my mouth shut and allowed him whatever alone time he needed. I focused on finding Zayn instead.