I know fifteen languages, I have twenty-seven identities, and know how to kill a man thirty-two different ways with my bare hands. So how did I run into you? How out of all six billion people in the world did we cross paths? You know me from school, I know you for being in One Direction. So leave me when you can, Zayn Malik, because I'm the world's most wanted secret agent and I'm only nineteen. But before you go, I want you to kiss me but I need you to Baise-Moi.

*Ages +15* **Some words are in French, you can use Google Translate for translation purposes**


19. Little Things

I stood off beside the stage, watching as the guys stood on a dark stage waiting for the cue to start. The arena was loud, knowing that the current event was on pause as the television took a commercial break and the audience refilled on champagne. 

The boys were still a little wet, but acted like nothing was wrong. They did know how to lie...effectively. The lights started to grow brighter and they all soon took their places atop their own lighted box/stool. Soon the curtains parted and the name One Direction was repeated across the arena. 

Applause. Then the acoustics. Simple acoustics. 

My crossed arms slowly unraveled and went to my sides. Zayn's voice started the song, and I instantly felt like a warm glow inside of me was appearing. I can't explain it, but the words of this song were...incredible. 

It was as if the song opened up the insecurities that every girl has felt and me being one of them. Sure I'm a secret agent and making sure my body is fit is a key ingredient, but the memories flooded my head. The hurt, the pain. 

My fingertips brushed along the inside of my wrist, the soft scares still bubbled underneath the many bracelets I wear to cover them. 

As the song continued I was feeling like a closed wound was being tore open. I couldn't take it. I couldn't hold back the tears that lingered in my eyes any longer. I needed a release and this song was the worst and best solution that I have come across. Their solos drifted into my ears like an antidote to the poison that has filled my same ears so many times in the past. 

I thought boy bands sang pop songs with hopeless meanings about love. Scenarios that only the characters in movies faced. I never thought that words, an acoustic guitar, and meaningful solos could mean so much to me...but they did. And just as fast as the song started, it ended. 

All five of them stood, and the arena, backstage, and it seemed all of London was clapping for them. They gave a bow, and then it was back to comedy. As a man dressed as one of their ridiculous fans appeared in the audience and made their way on the stage. Had to be the host or whatever. I rolled my eyes. How could they ruin a song like that with comic relief. 

I grew angry at whoever came up with this idea. It was as though they were making fun...get a hold of yourself, Giselle. I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes, but left the tear stains on my cheeks. 

I had to get out of here. I couldn't take this. 

I turned and walked further backstage. And even though I had just wiped my preexisted tears away they quickly reformed. I soon was sobbing and I found the quickest room to hide myself in. 

It has finally happened. I have cracked emotionally. I was having a mental breakdown, which meant one thing. I was confused. Confused about what? I have no fucking idea. 

I let my tears drain and tried my hardest to breath, without being overheard from outside. Of course me not being a crier, I was sadly mistaken when I thought I could sob quietly. 

So I heard a knock on the door, and my hand flushed to my mouth, trying to restrict my sobs.

I tried to be quiet, maybe the person would just go away until....

"Giselle?" The voice whispered. My eyes widened. No. No. No. No. No.

The door opened and the light flooded the room. The brightness shadowing the person who has entered, but I would never mistake that voice.

That husky, deep, Bradford voice.

"Zayn?" I muttered.

He found his way in the dark, and I soon could see the outline of a figure in front of me. "Are you alright?"

I shook my head, but without light I whispered, "No."

"What is it?"

I kept silent. Should I tell him that, that song threw me over a cliff of distraught and meaningless lies that I have always kept hidden from myself and others?

Too dramatic?

"Giselle?" He repeated my name.

Then I knew what I had to do to get my point across. I had to tell him what was wrong, but I couldn't speak the words. "This is the problem," I whispered as I placed my hand on his chest and tightened my hand into a fist around the soft white dress shirt. I quickly brought him down to me, placing my lips over his.

I needed this. This was the problem, I needed to feel something. Something that made me feel alive, and without him there in that second I would have used another method which would contain a sharp blade and quick numbness. He has saved me, through lyrics and lips.

He has saved me from myself.

He has saved me from my little thing of harm.

Except his words of little things showed on a body naturally. My little things were all caused directly and utterly by the owner of the body.


I released myself from his lips. We couldn't see each other but I told him what I needed. "Help me Zayn."

"From what?" He seemed concerned.

"From myself." I took the bracelets of my wrist and dropped them to the floor.

"I don't understand," he whispered.

"I have spent my life protecting people, but I have never protected myself," I replied as I reached for his hand. I placed his fingertips over the thin lines of scars across my wrist. "This is how I felt." 

I thought he would be upset, show some type of hidden emotion but instead he brought my wrist up to his lips. His breath releasing from his nose fluttered along my bruised skin. "This is how I'm going to heal you, protect you, and love you." Then he kissed my scars. 

omg, I love this chapter! Sorry it has taken me forever to update, but I couldn't think of what to put in this chapter so I kept watching the boys' performance for the Royal Variety and was like, "I need to make something good out of this," and here is the conclusion. So what do you think of Giselle be a once upon a time self-harmist? I was tired of her being so strong, I need to break down some of her walls. I know I'm terrible to my characters, but hey, it's make a great story. Ahem, fanfiction :)

anyway! Please comment, like, and favorite! 

Much love, Morgan xx

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