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!)


1. Escaping Home

"Do you never listen?!" my mother raged, hauling a beer bottle up into the air, "I told you to wash the dishes!"

I cringed, looking away from her, frightened that she may morph into a green Hulk any second. "I did," I replied in a soft voice that I didn't trust.

"No, no you didn't! Look at the sink!" she hollered, waving the bottle around like a weapon as she spun on her heels to face the kitchen. Her eyes zoned in on the metal sink and she scowled.

Empty. The sink was empty.

"Well, it doesn't matter! You... you didn't..." she tried desperately to think of something, her eyes rolling around frantically for an excuse to her irrational behavior. Coming to the conclusion of having no way out, she hurled the bottle at my feet. It exploded into a million pieces under the contact, and I instantly scuttled back. A scream clawed my throat as glass assaulted the couch, digging into the soft fabric. Smaller shards rose from the ground, dancing towards me and piercing my thin shorts. I clapped a hand over my mouth, swallowing the scream before it irritated my mother more. Suddenly, my mother spun away from me, glaring at the wall. I heard a single sob drop from her lips before she charged up the stairs, swinging her door open and slamming it shut behind her. "Clean it up!" she snarled from her room.



I fought the tears, my face distorted in a grimace as I slowly pulled the shards of glass from my bare leg. I tossed my head back, biting my lower lip hard while I dug the tweezers deeper into my skin. Ow, ow, ow, I chanted in my mind, ow, ow, ow. I yanked the metal back, pulling a piece of glass that had embedded itself in my leg.

"Mary," someone prompted, swinging the door open. I glanced up quickly, eyes widening at the sight of my mother. She clutched a bottle of beer in one hand, her knuckles turning white from the intensity of her grip. "Mary, I am sorry," she whispered, crossing over to me slowly. She stretched her free hand out, gently stroking the side of my face. I ducked away from her touch, frowning at her furiously. If looks could kill...

"Don't look at me like that," she snarled, clearly struggling to remain calm, "I just said sorry. Stop acting mad and accept my apology!"

I said nothing, only dropped my eyes to the tweezers. Crimson stained the brown glass clutched between the metal pieces, long and sharp. I flinched at the sight of it and deposited it on a napkin that was already full of glass. My mother instantly jerked the tweezers from my grip and madly pushed my hands away, grabbing my leg.

"Let me do that, dear," she said, digging at a piece of glass like she was taking her anger out on it. I clenched my teeth and squirmed, trying to get away from her poking and prodding--oh, and stabbing.

"Stop!" I demanded, rising my voice so she could hear me over the alcohol.

Her eyes snapped up to me, already fuming with rage. Her mouth set into a thin, grim line. "Don't tell me what to do," she hissed, snagging the shard of glass finally. Flicking her wrist, she yanked the glass out of my skin and threw it to the floor carelessly.

I whimpered in pain, squinting my eyes shut tightly. "S-sorry," I apologized.

"What'd you say?" my mother spat, carelessly driving the tweezers into my skin, grabbing at glass that wasn't there. I squirmed, reeling in pain.

"I said... I am... sorry," I snapped, my eyes daggers. Who was this woman I called my mother? She was no mother anymore. Not anymore. That was another lifetime, this was a different one--she was no longer my mother, now she was simply Alexandra. I did not need her.

"Don't say it so sorry, Mars," Alexandra growled. I scowled and yanked my leg away, snatching the tweezers from her hand.

"Yes, ma'am," I sassed, suddenly having a streak of courage and unwilling to throw it away.

Alex frowned furiously, raising her beer bottle to strike me. I rose my hand, swiping it out of her grip. It flew through the air and smashed into the wall next to the shower curtain, sending a mixture of alcohol and glass cascading to the ground. It covered the floor like confetti, but this was no party.

Oh, no, I had it in now--I could see from the look in her eyes.

"Mary. What. The. Hell," my mother snapped, lifting a hand and carelessly drawing it sharply across my cheek. I reeled back in pain, never having been hit by her before. And never again, either.

Adrenaline flooded my veins and I rose my injured leg, kicking her right in the guy's worst spot. "Leave me alone, Alexandra!" I snapped, leaping off the counter and pushing past her. My bare feet stabbed into pieces of glass on the ground, but I flew down the hallway and towards my room with my mother in pursuit.

"Get back here, Mary!" Alexandra hollered, grabbing my shirt. I felt the cloth reap under the momentum, and I was only momentarily stopped before closing the space between me and my room door. My body slammed against the wood in haste, swinging the door inward. My mother-- no, Alexandra fell against me, sending the both of us to fall to the ground. I stuck out my elbows instantly, hoping to break my fall. Floor rushed up under me and I fell against it, hard, while Alex scrambled off me. I flopped onto my back, kicking at her freely while I struggled to my legs. I finally found a foothold and gained balance just as Alex slammed the door, shouting dirty thing at me the whole while. I ran at the door, opening it again and screaming after her, "I HATE YOU," then slamming it just for the effect.

The house rang with the sound of the slam and I dove into my closet, ripping clothes off hangers and fumbling for a large bag. Finally, I threw a large black bag with many pockets aside. I dragged winter clothes and stuffed them messily into the pack, not caring if they were clean or dirty. I caused a storm around the warm, leaving it an absolute mess.


Clothes check, money check, shoes check, blanket check, flashlight check, batteries check... my eyes stole up to a picture that perched on my dresser. I blinked a few times, slowly standing and limping over to it. I eyed the frame, pulling it off the shelf and gazing at it.

My beautiful mother, my handsome father and brother. And me, swathed in their arms. Their affectation faces were turned to me, a smile sprawled on their amazing features. I'm glad I don't look like my mother and I look like my father. I wouldn't be able to stand the reflection if I did look like her...

Alexandra and my brother both had blue eyes set below thin brown eyebrows, small dark pink lips and tiny nose with high-cheek bones and shallow cheeks. They both had light brunette hair, and while they were both astonishingly beautiful, one was manly and the other feminine. I don't know much about my brother, other than the millions of pictures I have of him. Now, my father is a different story. Compared to mother and brother, he is gold and they are rubbish. He had full cheeks, high cheek-bones and larger eyebrows that complimented his slightly boxy head. He had dark brown hair with natural blonde highlights and astonishing green-gray eyes. I am the girl version of him, mother used to say. I had a small form, smaller than most, and the same eyes as my father. Our hair is the near same, but mine is darker in the dark areas and lighter in the light areas. My eyebrows are thinner, but just as shaped. My face form just like his was, high-cheek bones and full cheeks. While he was flawless, however, I have a scar just above the right side of my lip, like my lip had grown into an area it was not meant to. I don't remember how it happened, but my father said that it was my brother, he said that he had thrown a vase at my face. Blinking away tears--I don't cry--I dusted the frame off and stuffed it in my pack before slinging it over my shoulder.

I didn't have a weapon (hopefully it wouldn't be needed), food or water-bottles, but I had everything else. Better than nothing. I grabbed my phone and charger, sliding my phone into my bra--even though that's so stereotypical, what's wrong with having an extra pocket?--and stuffing the charger into my pack. Hopefully, I could go to places like Starbucks and charge my phone. Readjusting my clothes to fight the bitter wind and slinging the pack over my shoulders, I slowly opened my door. It creaked and I cringed, quickly leaving it behind. I tip-toed down the hallway, breathing hard as I struggled in vain to hear any movement. I walked slowly down the stairs, flinching when they would make a sound. Smiling with victory, I twisted the front door's knob... just as my mother came flying down the stairs.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, leaving the house at this hour?" she spat, stomping over to me.

Instantly, I swung the door open and rushed out, sprinting out towards the road. My mother shouted after me, begging for me to come back while encouraging me to go. I continued to run as fast as I could to no where and everywhere, my teeny-shoes pounding the concrete hard. Every step I took felt like an eternity, rattled my fragile heart, sent daggers into my soul. Every dirty word my mother called me was a knife grazed across my life, a blade digging a little bit deeper into my flesh.

I ran, ran, ran until I couldn't anymore. I fell over myself, curled in a ball on the road while I clutched my heaving sides. I ran until all I knew was the rhythmic beat of my shoes hitting pavement, the shallow breath rattling in my lungs, the heavy beat of my heart.

I ran until I had to fall to my knees--ran until I saw the car headlights peel in my direction.

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