Why do you hate me, What've I done?

Emily is a pretty normal sixteen year-old, she has short, red hair resembled to Hayley Williams', blue eyes, nice cheekbones. Other than she's an orphan; both her parents dead and she cuts. Emily just happens to fancy One Direction. She wins a contest to meet them, and she thinks it'll be like fanfictions and stories, they'll love her and become the best of friends and live happily ever after! No. But when the boys don't like her, how will she take it?


4. "I promise."

Emily's P.O.V

So the boys got me checked out of school, so we decided to go to Liam's place for a bit. We sit on the couch, all not talking much, when I excuse myself to the toilets. I properly look at my cut. It seems worse than my others; all that's left of them is scars, besides one from about three weeks ago.

I decide to clean it up a bit, since Liam practically hated me for doing it. I rinse it off, I wince as I do this, and let out a small gasp. I quick close my mouth; I hope nobody heard me. I dry it and examine it. Not too deep, as if I cared. Oh well. I walk back into the livingroom, sitting down next to Liam. He looks at my wrist, and smiles a bit. I return that smile; even though out of the corner of my eye I see Harry roll his eyes.

"While you were gone, we decided we should do a Twitcam. Does that sound okay Emily?" Liam asks sweetly. "Yeah, sure, that'd be cool!" "Be right back" he says with a cheeky wink. We all sit in a very awkward silence until Liam comes back with his Macbook.

"Ok, let's do this!" Niall says happily. They seemed happy when they did the Twitcam... Was I keeping them from being themselves?

"Hi, We're One Direction!" they say as they begin their Twitcam. "And today we have a very special guest, remember the contest we had for a fan to spend a week with us? Here she is; meet Emily Jones!" Zayn says nicely. "Erm, Hey!" I say to the camera as they show me to the 500,000 viewers, despite the fact it's the middle of the day on a Friday.

 The boys all talk a while for a bit, answering fans' questions, talking about their new tour, album, and songs. Something feels weird though. Then I see the next question and freeze, so does every other boy.It said, "Does Emily cut? I can see scars on her wrists?" I stood up slowly, walking outside, then I start running, until I come upon the side of Liam's buliding.

I don't really cry, like with noise, but tears stream down my cheek, I've never been so embarresed in my entire life! And with living with a hundred other girls and boys, I've had embarrising moments.

Now the rest of the boys and the 500,000 viewers know I cut. Plus it'll be all over Twitter. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap crap crap crap crap. I'm silent, except for a sniff here and there. I've been there for maybe three minutes, when someone comes running around the corner of the house. I sink beside a bush, trying to hide myself, but they find me.

"Emily? Are you alright?" I peek my head out from behind the bush and nod my head. It's Zayn, I could talk to him. He comes and sits next to me, I hide my face into my knees. He softly grasps my wrist lightly brushing his thumb against my newest cut. I wince, and take my face away from my knees.

"What would make you do this?" Zayn asks. "You saw them" I mumble. "They hurt me, throwing me into lockers, taunting me in the bus. I've tried to make them stop, to tell an adult, ignore it, kill them with kindness, it just doesn't work."

He sighs and gives me a hug, my tears falling onto his shoulders as he says, "Please Em, promise me you'll never do it again, for your own sakes."

"Em?" I ask, confused with this new nickname. Only James called me Em. He shrugs his shoulders and I say, "I promise."

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