Fucked up (1D)

The 17 year old Mary Jane Moore, lives a normal life - until on her 17th birthday, where her loving parents tragically dies in a car accident. The young man behind the opposing car survives - but he is no ordinary boy. What will happen when Mary Jane is forced to meet the "killer" of her parents? And what will happen to her after her parents death?


9. Harry styles

“Why is there blood on your carpet?” Kylie asked. I sensed the hurt in her voice, and I knew she was aware of what I did last night.  I still tried to lie.

“I bled through my shorts the other day, and it went all over the carpet…” besides the fact that I hadn’t worn shorts for two years, and the fact that I had lost so much weight my period didn’t come anymore, it was the best lie I could tell right now; even though it was nowhere near believable. A sting of suspicion ran over her face, and then she composed herself, knowing it was a lost cause.

“I just don’t want you to hurt yourself…” she said under her breath, and then taking a sip of her coffee. I put a fake smile on my face.

“I won’t, and I’m not. Don’t worry.” I said, as I pushed around the scrambled eggs on my plate. She shook her head in a sarcastic manner, as a little smile spread across her lips, soon to be devoured to the pitch-black coffee in her giant mug.

“Kyle?” I asked.

“Janie?” she said, waiting for my question. She put the mug down on the kitchen island we were sitting at.

“Who is Harry Styles?” she froze, and closed her eyes.

“You don’t know who he is?” She finally asked. I shook my head, as I wrinkled up my brows. She looked at me with big eyes.

“Are you for real?” she asked. I nodded, and watched her face change.

“That’s why you let him hug you…” she muttered, as she turned around, and went over to the sink, while she started washing off the pans. For the first time since the funeral, her voice sounded like a snare.

“If you don’t know him, you don’t need to know. Then it doesn’t matter, I just don’t want you to look him up or anything. Just forget him.” She said. I could feel the hate in her voice, all the way from her core.

“What’s he done?”

“Nothing. HE’S DONE NOTHING, OKAY? Forget him! He’s not worth your time, and I don’t want you to get hurt!” she said, as she turned around to face me, her hands resting on the countertops. I closed my lips together, as she stomped across the livingroom, towards the bathroom.

“I’m going to wash up.”  The door slammed shut, and the water started running.

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