Freedom Isn't Only Physical(One Direction Fanfic)

Mary(also known as Mars Bars) was one of the girls you would consider popular. She had a normal life, better than the average person would--but when her father is murdered during a day at work, her mother becomes an empty shell. After a night the both regret, Mary leaves her house in search of a new life--and just so happens to run into five boys that change her life.
(Fanfic about One Direction... and a specific boy. Taken at a realistic pace(I hope). I don't own the cover image!)

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8. Do I Look Okay?

I swallowed hard. Oh, man, oh, man. I stared into his emerald eyes, unable to do anything else. No words rolled off of my tongue, I was uncap-able of them--words, that is. I don't know why I am freaking out... maybe it's the good-looks. Yeah, I thought, studying him, that's it. Okay, Mary, deep breath... don't act stupid. Who am I kidding? I am stupid.

"Yeah," I said cringing. My face scrunched up and I leaned back against the pole, wanting to just ignore the five pop-stars.

"You don't look alright, mate," the blonde guy said. I peeked an eye at him and resisted a snarky reply, settling on saying nothing, but I wanted to say: Do I look okay to you?.

"What happened to you?" another guy asked, one with stripes on.

"Y'alls fans aren't the kindest..." I said through clenched teeth, squirming as my leg suddenly began to stretch, like a growing pain--but only worse. The curly boy's eyes got big and I marveled at them for a quick second before clearing my throat at the awkward silence.

"I-I," another guy, one with black hair spiked up, began, "I am sorry. They can get..." he trailed off.

"...feisty," the blonde one finished for him, and they shared a quick glance.

"I am fine," I said, a bit harshly. They all blinked at the cool words that dropped from my mouth, then the four lined up took a step closer, and Curls (decent name, I'd say) stood and backed away.

The one with stripes rose his eyebrows, nodding in a humorous way as he said, "Well, you look fantastic."

I bobbed my head in mock agreement and dropped my hand into my lap, fighting back a whine of pain. I was uncomfortable, so uncomfortable. My body felt like it was twisting and turning, being pulled apart, and ached all over. I wanted to go back to my hotel, take a long shower and eat, put on the medicine, and sleep the pain away.

I wanted, I realized, to go home. But why?

Suddenly, a large, naturally tanned hand dropped down towards me, beckoning for me to grab it. I flinched, slowly reaching up to grasp the hand as my eyes trailed up the boy with the black hair and brown eyes.

"Thank you," I muttered as he slowly pulled me up, resting a hand across my back to steady me. I instantly pulled away, determined to be strong until I could be weak. I glanced at the other boys, all eyes trained on me--my belly was doing flip-flops--as I took a tentative step towards nowhere. My injured leg sent a shock of pain from the foot that dashed up, like a race, to my knee, then to the top of my thigh. I gasped as the ground rushed up under me, and, despite the fact my elbows had been bruised enough, stuck out my elbows to support my landing.

But the hit never came.

All of the One Direction boys had moved forward, but the blonde boy and the guy with a birthmark on his neck caught me. The blonde boy had a hold of my shoulder and the other, Neck Mark, grabbed my arm. I pushed to my feet, struggling to support my weight.

"T-thanks," I stuttered, captured by the sight of all of these beautiful boys around me. Could they be any prettier?

Just as I was about to take another fatal step, two arms snaked under my arms, lifting me off my feet. I had one arm draped over Neck Mark and the other over Stripes. The tips of my toes grazed the wet ground and I blinked, momentarily shocked.

"...I can walk," I protested, trying to shrug them off.

"Shut up and tell us where you live," they all said in sync.

 

 

Where do I live? that was the problem that plagued my mind. I want to go home.

I don't want to go home.

I am so confused. I miss my m-- Alexandra, but I can't return there. I want so many things, I am so selfish, but I can have none. While I mulled over where to direct them, they all began to chatter about the concert. Seldomly, they would ask for my opinion, questions like:

"Was my solo okay?"

"Did we dance funny?"

"Are we okay at harmonizing?"

Of course, I only say positive things. For numerous reasons. One being that it's true.

So, when Curls came to a stop sign and asked, "Where do you live?" I made a snap decision and pointed him to the road.

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