Hanging On

Katerine Willows was falling in two ways. She was falling into an unfathomable comatose, destroyed after her fiancé’s death and on a path of self destruction. Until her therapist forcibly sends her to Paris to help her pursue her once great career as a singer. Then she falls another way. A way she never expected to fall again. She fell in love. Will she allow the equally damaged Louis Tomlinson to heal her? Or will she continue down the cold and lonely road she started out on?

Hey! My first real writing, so fingers crossed! I know some of the things in here are cruel or messed up, but I don't mean anything against the people in it! It's purely fiction! Please enjoy and leave feedback! I'll update as often as possible. Xx -Alex

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2. Chapter Two

 

    I woke up to the sound of my phone going off. It all came back to me where I was. I shot up and grabbed my phone. How late had I slept? Was I going to be late? Looking at my phone it was only 11:57am. "Oh thank you," I sighed. There was a text from my mom and a missed call. Shit.
    >Tried to call. Guess u r asleep. Txt when u can, hon. Miss u. xx Mom
    I put my phone down and stretched. I felt better after sleeping so well, but still pissed about being here. Who the fuck did they think they were? I got up and put my contacts in, looking at myself. I brushed my hair out and kept staring. My skin was fair, and I had managed to keep my finely toned dancer's body even after 4 months of doing nothing. My silver eyes were dull though, showing how suppressed I was from the meds. I stripped down and took a long hot shower, letting the jets soothes my body. After a good while, I reluctantly dried off and put on a pair of skinny jeans, a tank top and a dark long sleeved shirt. I dried my hair out and let it go straight, not even using the iron. After brushing it a few more times, I took care of my dental hygiene. I smudged on a little eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss. I put on my ankle boots, grabbed my bag and was out.
I walked the streets, just exploring. It was all so glamorous to me. The buildings were tall and modern, showing how upscale and business they were. The sidewalks all clean and the streets perfectly paved. I finally came across a small bistro and walked inside. The smell of coffee and pastries made my stomach growl. I ordered and sat down at a small table by a window and checked Twitter on my phone. I had an iPhone, but I still lugged my iPod around, sentimentally. I had tons of mentions for going to London and how excited people were for me. Honestly, it annoyed me. They just want to show how they support me so when I'm "famous" they can be considered a "friend" too. Fuck that. I locked my phone and finished my coffee. I happened to glance out the window when I saw a mob of girls moving down the street. I couldn't understand it. What were they doing?
    Suddenly, the familiar poster face of Harry Styles came into view. "Fantastic I have to deal with this now, too," I muttered.
    "This happens all the time. God only knows when the girls will leave." Some woman came up and was staring out the window with me. "It's ridiculous how they just swarm around. Don't they have lives?"
    I scoffed. "Yeah no shit." I stood up and left a tip, deciding to leave while the crowd was surrounding him on the other side of the street. I scurried my way back towards the hotel, only to find myself fighting the crowd of obsessive girls, each one of them screaming as loud as humanly possible. I began using force, elbowing and jabbing my way to the front. Finally, I reached the entrance.
    "Hey, you can't go in there!" I turned around to see a cop walking briskly towards me.

    “You aren't sneaking past me." He grabbed my arm and began pulling me back to the crowd.
    "Let go of my arm! What the hell is wrong with you?" I wrenched my arm from him. "Don't you have a list? I stay here."
    "I'm not buying it, get back in line, bitch." He began walking away. That's when I saw it. The limo. One Direction. All of them. In front of the hotel.
    "Oh hell no I did NOT come here for this." The police officer began talking to them. I slipped past the line and marched up behind him. "Hey!" He didn't respond. "Hey, Officer Asshole." That got his attention.
    "Alright I'm taking you in." He reached for me and I slapped his hand away. Dead silence, all eyes on me. I didn't even notice.
    "You ever consider the fact I do stay here? I guess not. I didn't even want to be here! I was shipped here because my therapist said it would be good for me to get away and relax. Does it LOOK like I'm fucking RELAXING? This is your fault! You didn't do your damn job! First thing you do when a celebrity is going to a public hotel is get a residence list for all the people who are staying there already who have things to do and lives to live. Hell I'm not a cop and I knew to do that! I did NOT come here to be forced to stand outside in the fucking rain for the rest of night when I have an actual schedule to keep. So you can take those shiny handcuffs of yours and shove them straight up your ass, take yourself to jail." I began walking off. "And do your damn job!" I heard people cheering behind me and the crowd grew crazy again. I walked up to the service desk. 
    "Hi, I'm sorry but the cop outside didn't get a residence list and it would be so very helpful if he had one," I smiled.
    "Oh of course! Just one moment." I stood there for a few minutes before she handed it to me. I smiled and walked back outside.
    “Here." I slapped the list in his hand. "Don't worry I took the courtesy of checking my name off for you," I smiled. I gave a small wave and walked back into the building, feeling satisfied.
    I rode the elevator up to my room and flopped onto my bed again. I felt my head pounding from my explosion outside. I was unstable. The meds had definitely worn off. I took several deep breaths, trying to calm down. I didn't need to go into another fit. Not today. My heart rate finally began to decrease, leaving behind a pounding headache for me to deal with.
    A knock on the door sounded and I hissed in annoyance. "Who the fuck is that?" I growled. I swung the door open to find a man in a suit standing there awkwardly. "Can I help you?"
    "Yes, you are Ms. Katherine?"
    "Katerine."
    "Ms. Kate...Katerine?" He stammered.
    "You seem to be nervous, are you okay? You're not on something are you?" I looked him up and down, noting his thin frame.
    "No miss, I uh, I come on behalf of the five gentlemen down the hall. They would personally like to thank you for ridding them of the police officer on the street," he said nervously.
    I stared at him, confused. "One Direction? Is that who you're talking about?"
    "Yes, I do believe so, miss."
    "I just wanted to get to my room, they're the ones who brought the crowd here in the first place," I grumbled. The man pulled at his collar, obviously sweating. "Alright look, hey just calm down. What's your name?"
    "Deni," he answered, shaking.
    "Okay look Deni, I'm not going to bite your head off or snap at you, so just relax, okay? Why are you practically pissing yourself anyway? Is there a gun to your head?"
    "No miss I just...I.." Deni broke down in sobs.
    I stood there uncomfortably. What the actual fuck was going on? "Um, Deni? As much as I enjoy a good sob, you need to pull yourself together."
    "I've just never met so many famous people in one day," he cried. My heart froze.
    "What do you mean?" No way he recognized me. It was six months ago! No one remembered me.
    "You were that famous singer Toby DeRimes's fiancé, Katerine Willows.

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