Kiss and Tell

Emily just thought she was going to your average One Direction concert.
Emily just thought wrong.

Emily's 18, and when she and her best friend Jenny turn up to a 1D concert to find it's cancelled, they aren't pleased. All too fast, they're sharing a hotel with the boys, and Jenny's changed. Drastically. They discover parites, clubs, drugs and fame. Jenny's going off the rails, hitting headlines for the wrong reasons, though she's not the only one making mistakes. Emily gets pregnant, oblivious to who the father is. Let's just remember not all stories have a happy ending, and where there's love, there's drugs, and where there's drugs, there's guns..


11. The Pain


Dad's hunched over the kitchen table, with pale papery creased skin. His eyes are hooded, hair uncut and shaggy. It looks as if he hasn't sleeped in years.

"Dad?" I whisper. He jumps, holding his hands up, a scream caught at the back of his throat. Seconds later he calms when he realises it's me.

"Emily! What are you doing?!" he cries, palms pressing against the hard wooden table. "What's happened is something wrong?"

"No dad, nothing's wrong. It's just...well...girl stuff."

He sighs and chuckles a little bit.

"Girl stuff eh? Heh, it'll be the end of me."

I smile. "It's good to be back," I say. Is it? I look out the window, two-hundred-and-twenty-five miles away from Jenny and her little boyfriends. Yeah, it is good to be back.

"I'm not gonna lie, it's been weird without you. Not bad though, not bad," He teases. I knock his head playfully.

"Shu'p, you've missed me."

"So how was it? 'Amaaazzeeballls' as you say?" He shakes his head, stifling a laugh.

"Yeah dad. It was amazeballs. Well, it was an experience let's just say."


My bedroom's dark and cold, curtains drawn, bed left untouched and un-made, and strangely tidy. Too tidy. In fact, everything's gone. A part from the bed, there is literally nothing there. No furniture, and no over-obssesive One Direction posters licked across my pale blue walls. But now they aren't there, and the paints been mostly scratched off. I drop my suitcase down by my feet, and blink. What is this? Slowly, I back away, a sick feeling churning in my stomach. I steady myself against the doorframe.

"Dad..." I whisper. Like he's going to hear that. "DAD!!!!"

Footsteps emerge from the corridor, quick and restless.

"Emily? What's wrong, a-are you alright?"

"What's happened to my room?!"

I turn myself to face him, and realise the big cabinets of family ornaments and treasure is gone too.

"What's happened to the house?!"

Dad tries to smile, but he breaks into a silent sob, raising his fingers to the bridge of his nose to hide his crying eyes.

"Oh, Emily, I'm sorry..." his voice breaks, and his shoulders shake.

"Dad?" I'm lost. I don't have a clue what's happening, and have no idea what to do. Hug him? I touch his sleeved forearm gently.

"I've had to sell everything, Emily. We're out of money, I've lost my job, we just-" he stops. "I'm selling the house."

I'm in shock. My jaw is hanging down my neck, eyes bawling, tears clinging to my eyelashes.
"You're what?" My voice wobbles.

"If I didn't have to, I really wouldn't, honest, I feel the same, it's just the bloody god damned government!"

I stroke the walls, leaning my head against the peeled off wallpaper.

"I understand." But I really don't. "Dad, I just need some me time." I walk off, out the front door, leaving it hanging open. He might as well sell that too. I make off down the road to no where,  until I'm surrounded by grass land, lost in a midst of trees. I don't want to go back home. I'll just be another mouth to feed, less money for dad. I think of Jenny, soaked up in money, and then of my dad, shrivelled in povert. I cry. A proper long cry, releasing everything I've held back since the concert. My stomach folds and burns, and I throw up mouthfuls of sick that splatter against the forest bed. The acid burns my throat, and I feel pain. It's like a fire eruppting through my body.


My eyelids flutter open, a canopy of dark forest trees shielding the awakening daylight. I groan, pushing myself up, feeling hungover, even though I'm really not. The bird's morning song tickles my eardrums. Slowly I push myself up, wrapping my hoodie further round my body. My feet dig into the soil, and I rest my hand against the crumbling bark of a large oak.  I scan the stretch of trees. Which way home? Do I want to go home? Suddenly, I buckle back to the ground, more sick pouring from my pale, chapped lips. My arms cradle my stomach, and I hear a scream rip's through the forest, it's echo ricochetting into my ears. Then I realise the scream came from me.

I need help. And fast.


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