Harry has always loved Niall, and was always scared to admit it. Once they came out to each other, the sparks started to fly. The sparks of R.O.M.A.N.C.E. The next step if coming out to the world, but what happens when a crazy fan steps in in attempt to destroy Niall? How will Harry deal with this? There are so many questions, but only one answer. And remember, whenever you come across a hater, tell them You Can Hurt Me Tomorrow <3 A/N: That made no sense what so ever. I suck at descriptions... XD THIS STORY IS COMPLETELY MADE UP. I DID NOT STEAL THIS, AND ANY WORK SIMILAR TO THIS PIECE IS JUST A COINCIDENCE. Warnings: This story contains attempted murder and swearing. If you are not comfortable with blood, or get triggered to self-harm when blood and cutting is brought up, then don't read this and go get help. It hurts me to see my lovies in pain... :'( Anyway, this story may contain mature content in later chapters ;) Remember: This Story is Rated G for Gay XD (god I'm so lame...) COVER CREDITS TO @Miss_Angel SHE DID AN AMAZAYN JOB!

She scoots the leather seat closer to the hospital bed and lays her head on the soft mattress. She puts her hands together and begins to pray. It was hilarious. She has never pray before and she definitely didn’t go to church. After her mom died of cancer she just stopped believing. However, she knew if she lost this person in front of her she would not be able to live anymore. She wouldn’t have anything left. “Do you remember anything that happened tonight?” The woman in the hospital bed looks back at her confused and answers, “I’m sorry but who are you.” “This cannot be happening…This can’t be." The blonde squeezes her eyes shut. "Please tell me you remember!"

The Society is the men. Far too many men, according to what they've told me. The School is the women. Far too few women, if I heard correctly. The Competitions is where the two come together. Annually, the Society holds the Competitions for men to try to win their wives. The women have no say in it; they're expected to go along without complaint. Only the strongest, the ones who actually win, are allowed to marry. The catch is, it's a fight to the death. You don't lose: you win or die. And I can tell you, I don't want to watch Society's men slaughter each other, begging for mercy. Because that's me. I'm Mercy.