″I'll be right beside you, nobody will break you.″

(WARNING: SLOW UPDATES DUE TO SCHOOL) I typed in my name and address as fast as I possibly could. My hands were aching and my fingers were getting tired. I had to win, I just had to. I couldn't let my little sister down. "Chanel, stop." My mom called. I looked at her, tears in my eyes. My little sister has Cerebral Palsy. She loves One Direction more than anything in this world. Cerebral Palsy is a disorder that affects muscle tone, movement, and motor skills (the ability to move in a coordinated and purposeful way). She can't play any sports. She can hardly walk. She can't run. She is pretty much helpless. I love her nonetheless. She stays in a wheelchair all the time. The only time she gets out is to take a bath, sleep, or use the bathroom. Sometimes she goes to Physical Therapy. But we can't go to that regularly, because of the distance it takes to get there. She always has someone by her side. If it's me, my mother, or Veronica. My dad left us years ago for some whore in Las Vegas, but that didn't stop us. I was going to win this contest to meet One Direction if my life depended on it.

{completed} ✓ - He lost the woman he once loved due to his fame, since then he promised he would never do such a thing to a normal girl again. He would never ruin another life again. But it’s not always that easy when life puts someone who you just can’t resist in front of you.

I tapped my pen onto my desk with anticipation. Why did I deserve to meet One Direction? I stared at my lifeless paper. The question kept skipping through my mind like a broken record player. Why did I, Cher Marie Lovett, deserve to meet One Direction? Lots of ideas swirled my mind, but one caught my attention. Without thinking twice, I scribbled onto the paper, “So I can lick Liam Payne's abs.” I know what you're thinking. That's probably the dumbest reason ever. But, hey, it was 100 percent truthful and its not like they're gonna read it anyways. Pretty pleased with my idea from God, I skipped over to Mrs. Richards’ desk and slammed down my masterpiece. “I'm finished,” I smirked with a mouthful of victory. Little did I know that a simple, ‘I'm finished’ would be my biggest regret yet.