The Other Tomlinson Sister

The Other Tomlinson Sister

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Jan 2, 2014
You may have heard of the others, Lottie, Felicite, Daisy, Pheobe, Gerogia... But you've never heard of me... Grace Tomlinson, younger than Lou by 3 years. I was dared to be kept a secret, hidden away in neverland, from all the little "Directioners". At first, our little "game" was fun: Fangirls stopping me in coffee shops, telling me how I look like their Boo Bear. Physically running away from the management. Watching Lou second guess himself every interview, when they asked him how many sisters he had. Becoming the girl, no one thought I ever would be. Knowing I'm the punch - line, no one ever saw coming. Until, the day that my character started taking over my life. Ruining my relationships with everyone, even my own brother... I was abandoned, alone, the hot topic, trending on twitter: You name it. It was all me, well, it was my "alter ego" as the boys call it. But really. What's so interesting about the other Tomlinson sister? . ** I post a video with every chapter, so y'all can get a taste of my bipolar music taste(:**
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† 𝔩𝔦π”ͺ𝔒𝔯𝔒𝔫𝔠𝔒 /Λˆπ”©Ιͺπ”ͺə𝔯ə𝔫𝔰/ π”žπ”‘π”§π”’π” π”±π”¦π”³π”’: π”ž 𝔣𝔒𝔳𝔒𝔯𝔒𝔑 π”°π”±π”žπ”±π”’ 𝔬𝔣 π”ͺ𝔦𝔫𝔑 π”Ÿπ”¬π”―π”« 𝔬𝔣 𝔯𝔬π”ͺπ”žπ”«π”±π”¦π”  π”£π”¦π”΅π”žπ”±π”¦π”¬π”«; π”ͺπ”žπ”―π”¨π”’π”‘ π”Ÿπ”Ά π”¬π”Ÿπ”°π”’π”°π”°π”¦π”³π”’ 𝔱π”₯𝔬𝔲𝔀π”₯𝔱𝔰, 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔀𝔦𝔫𝔀 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔒π”ͺπ”¬π”±π”¦π”¬π”«π”žπ”© 𝔯𝔒𝔠𝔦𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔢, π”žπ”«π”‘ π”žπ”« π”žπ” π”₯𝔦𝔫𝔀 𝔑𝔒𝔭𝔒𝔫𝔑𝔒𝔫𝔠𝔢; ∴ 𝔑𝔒𝔳𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔑𝔯𝔒𝔰𝔰𝔒𝔑 𝔦𝔫 𝔑𝔒𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 † "Then tell me," I rasp. "Tell me and I'll deal with it. I'll handle it. Just-don't shut me out." "I can't," she says again, voice breaking. "I can't tell you. I can't be with you. And I can't stand here and watch you break and know that I'm the reason." She swallows hard, her throat moving. "Please don't make me explain it. Please just... stop." I take a step toward her anyway, rain dripping from my eyelashes, my chest hollow. "I don't care if it kills me," I say, and it's not bravado; it's a man with nothing left to barter. "If that's the price, fine. At least then I get to be with you before it ends." She makes a small sound, half sob, half laugh, and it's the most human thing I've ever heard from her. "Don't say that," she whispers, almost fierce. "Don't ever say that." She holds my eyes for one last beat, lips parted like she might say something else - something that could undo all of this, something that could make the rain stop mattering. But she doesn't. Instead, she exhales, low and unsteady, and shakes her head. "I'm sorry," she says again, softer now, like a confession. Then she turns. And that's it.

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