Hello. I'm Emily Jones. I'm not perfect. At all. My hair is a vibrant red, like Hayley Willams', I dyed it to look like hers; she's my role model. I'm fat, ugly, and my parents are both... deceasced. I don't like to talk about it. But here I go- I was probably about a month old. My parents went out for some drinks and they were in a terrible car accident, the car flipped three times, both of them died instantly. Ever since then I've lived in multiple orhanages. I also cut myself, I punish myself for being ugly, wothless, and unwanted, nobody ever chose me to go to a foster home. But here I am. Alive, breathing. I live alone now, I'm sixteen.
The only thing that keep me from killing myself is my best friend, James. Oh, and One Direction, I'm a bit of their fan, I entered a contest to meet them earlier, if I win they come straight to my school. Like that's gunna happen. I get bullied a ton, he helps me through it. I'm still in highschool, I awake to sun shining through my window.
I don't want to get up. I hop into the shower and bathe, cleansing all the scars from my cuts. I dress into an tantop and an old Aeropostale hoodie, sweat pants, and no makeup; I might cry and have mascara all over my face.
I don't eat breakfast, thinking about my weight. The bus comes soon after, and I prepare myself for the torturious day ahead of me. "Hey, flamehead!" Christa yells at me. I ignore her, and I'm just about to past the seat she sat at when she drags me into it with her by my hair screaming, "I said HEY!" "W-what do you w-want?" I studder the tears forming in my eyes. "Just wanted to remind you you're trash. Useless, fat, trash." she smirks. James comes from behind grabbing me out of her grasp and yelling, "That's enough! No one here is better then my Em!" "Oh, yeah? Do something about it, fag." He tenses up and drags me into the back of the bus, sitting with me.
James is gay, he hates it when people tease him about it. I start to sob silently into his shoulder. "Hey, you. Don't listen to them. They're just jel." I wipe my tears and we arrive at school soon enough. "I'll se you later, kay?" He says. I nod and he gives me a quick hug before leaving. As I walk down the hall, I'm suddenly thrown into a locker. Cam. He's the jock, he plays offense in football, he has a mean kick. Lucky me he can save a goal too.
"Hey babe" he says as I slouch to the ground in intense pain. "O-ouch" I studder through many tears. "See ya, ginger." I manage to stand up as I see somone look into my eyes. It looks kind of like... No. It can't be. Zayn Malik wouldn't be here, but we are in London, and I did sign up for the contest.... Nah. I didn't win.
I run to the empty closet, hearing the tardy bell ring. I don't care. I sink to the ground, sobbing loudly, not like anyone's goning to hear me. I had just made a cut in my left wrist when sombody walked in, me still sobbing. "Erm.... Hello? Is somebody in here?" It's a husky voice that sounds kind of like... No. That's not going to happen. Stop dreaming Emily. But he walks straight in, turning on the light. I was wrong. It was him. Before me stood Liam Payne.