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!)


12. I Don't Want To Remember

I remember grabbing my phone and dialing 911.

I remember sobbing next to Alexandra's body, ignoring the gore just inches away from her limp, chilled body.

I remember screaming, telling her to wake up, asking how she could do this to me.

I remember the sirens. The police. Her body being dragged away from me, and me yanking her necklace off and cradling it. Refusing to loose all of the woman I hate.

But I don't remember crying.

I don't remember how I got to the hotel without walking. How I was in comfy pajamas and in the bed, peacefully sleeping.

I wish Will Smith would burst into my room and use his flash-thingy and erase my memory like Men In Black... I wish that was just a nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare, I thought, knowing the actual truth but wishing I didn't. I clutched the necklace in my hand, hunched over myself and staring blankly at the cream wall, leaning on my bed. I ran the gem through my fingers, unable to move, to think.

Why did her death move me so much? I hated her. Sure, a small part of me still loved her--but that was only, only because she was mother, whether I wanted it that way or not. I wish I could not be affected by this, but I have no choice. It's like someone drove a knife into my just, between my ribs, and poked my heart with just the tip, leaving a prick right in the center. Suddenly, I doubled over, curling in on myself. I folded into a small ball, gripping my ankles and tucking my knees against my chest, sheltering my face.

The necklace lay in my palm limply. The gold chain had snapped when I yanked it off my dead mother's neck, but I refused to throw it away. The gem was a diamond, rather large and in a heart-shape, tucked inside a gold bed. My father had given it to her the first night of their honeymoon...

I fell asleep, the words 'I don't want to remember' bouncing around in my horrified mind.



For two weeks, I did not leave my room. I did not eat, aside from a pack of gummy-bears and two apples. I drank two bottles of water. I only took a shower once. I did not open the door for the maids. I did not get up and move around for the most part, and I winded up laying in fetal position most of the time. The cops showed up, questioned about what happened. I didn't mind, I answered them truthfully.

I could not think, I could not sleep, I could not eat. My stomach felt like it was going to cave in on itself and my head constantly ached horribly.

I don't want to remember.

But I have no choice...



"Open up!" someone hollered from outside the door. I blinked.

Once, twice, three times, trying to understand.

"W-who... ?" I questioned to thin air, struggling to get out of bed. I pulled the sheets, trying to get some sort of hold to haul myself up. My leg's infection had gotten worse because I had not treated it, but the bruises and scratches all on my body had healed. I fell from the bed with a loud thump, groaning in pain. "I-I... am coming," I announced to the door, tears springing to my eyes.

I blinked them away.

Slowly, I stumbled to my feet, grabbing at the bed to bring myself up. I clumsily swayed over to the door, grabbing at the handle and unlocking it with trembling hands. Taking a few deep breaths, I gently opened the door and looked right into the person's--peoples--eyes.

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