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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15. Just A Dream

My limbs flailed wildly, like I was a dancing puppet.

Except my movements weren't graceful.

I heard faint screaming, but the terror that flooded my veins was rampant, and I only believed that they were screams of horror. Horror of seeing Alexandra, seeing their best-friends--wait, what?--morph into the face of that monster. That horrible monster, my mother. The one who killed herself...

...because of me. Suddenly, the reality of it all crashed onto me.

I did not just loose my mother, I killed her. I lost all of my family now, and I just so happened to be the one to kill them all.

Oh, God, no, I screeched in my head, squeezing my eyes shut tight. Panic engulfed me and I was at my feet, pushing away a few worried boys as I ran towards the door. Sweat--or was it tears?--pooled under my eyes and beaded on my forehead. I heard my name being called frantically from behind me, but I paid no mind as I swung the door open and sprinted down the hallway. I flew down the stairs, blowing off the elevator. If I did not move, I felt like I would fall apart from the inside out. Tears were cascading down my cheeks madly, and I felt like I couldn't keep up my promise no matter how hard I tried.

I would always end up crying at the end of the day.

The spinning doors weren't crowded. Probably because it's the middle of the night, I thought. My hands grazed the cool window and I shoved, stumbling into the revolving door and running around in it until I felt the cool air. Blindly, I flung myself out of the building and onto the sidewalk. For only a second, I allowed myself a moment to feel the air on my bare arms and legs, to push my sweated hair free from my forehead, to feel the chill on my toes, to catch my breath that rattled in my throat.

But only a second.

In an instant, I was off again, sprinting across the empty street. No people cluttered the sidewalks, no cars buzzed down the street. I was alone, truly alone.

Or so I thought.

Four guys were in pursuit just minutes after I left, sprinting in different directions. Why? Did they care? Did I matter to them? Of course not.

Or so I thought.

Wasn't I just another girl? Another fan--when in reality, I didn't know of their fame until just recently? Wasn't I just normal to them? Of course I was!

Or so I thought.

Thoughts spun their sticky webs in my mind, interlocking and mixing to form words, words I couldn't read. I tried to ignore Alexandra's voice, telling me how unimportant and insignificant I was. How I was a murderer, an immature little girl who was incapable of taking care of myself--much less any man or children.

How useless I was.

I tried to ignore it, tried to blow it off like I had all my emotions in the past, but I couldn't. I simply couldn't. My mother, the one who proclaimed I had killed her, had scratched my heart's rock film. She left a little cut right in the center, leaving me vulnerable. The slightest push, touch, cut, scratch--anything... would break me.

Little did I know I was already broken.

Ignorantly, I had thought I was free of my past. But, you see, freedom isn't only physical.

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