Sticks And Stones

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will ALWAYS hurt me.


9. Cared



“Let it out- for me. For a girl who always cared, despite the fact that I never got cared for.”




I pulled her in for a hug, and I could feel her nestle her head against my chest. Smiling, I wrapped my arms tightly around her and pulled her in closer, leaning my head on hers. I could feel her sobs against my shirt, and my smile instantly faded away.




I nuzzled my head against Harry’s chest and took a deep breath in. And then- I just lost it. But it wasn’t just because of the ring. Or the fact that I’ve been alone. It’s that finally- finally someone has heard my cries. Someone’s here to help me. And out of all people, it had to be Harry Styles. But could I trust him? Do I want to trust him? The tears continued streaming down my face, and I could feel his shirt starting to get wet. I snapped, and realized where I was. Pulling back, I turned my head away and wiped the tears off my face. I turned to look up, and was stunned. I mean, what do you do when the Harry Styles shows up at your door, because of a suicide note you wrote?


“Hello love,” he whispered.




“Hay is for horses.” He winked, sending a shiver down my spine.


“Are you implying that I’m a horse?” I raised my eyebrow.


“And if I was?” He leaned in.


“Then I would tell you that you’re very rude,” I paused and thought. “And that you should get out of my room.”


“Well good thing I didn’t imply that.”


“Are you sure?” I raised my eyebrow again.


“I’m pretty sure I don’t want to leave,” he whispered. I starred at him as he started leaning in, but I quickly turned around. I ran down the hall and sat on the couch, waiting for him to follow. Patiently, I tapped my nails on the handle, and inspected them. I felt the couch sink in as he sat down on the other side, and I changed my position.


“Why are you here?” I frowned.


“Do you want me to leave?”


“No… Yes… it’s just, why are you here?” I looked at him.


“You know exactly why I’m here.” His stare was strong.


“But…” I pulled the sleeves of my shirt down, covering my scars. I could feel him watching, his gaze burning into me. “Why me?” I whispered.


“Why not you?”


“Well I’m-“


“Beautiful? Amazing? Gorgeous?” He leaned closer with every word he said. I rapidly stood up and walked over, and put my finger on his chest.


“So you’re just going to base it on looks?” I jabbed his chest with my finger, I was furious. “Just because I’m ‘good looking’, I’m automatically amazing?”


“No, but-“


“But what?”


“I know enough about you.” He looked intently at me.


“You know nothing about me.” He stood up, and looked down at me. I could feel his breath on my face, and the butterflies exploding in my stomach.


“I know enough. Everyone is worth something, and I’d bet money that you’re worth the world.” His words came out strong. “No one should ever be hurt to a point where they want to kill themselves. It’s just plain wrong.” He took my arm and pulled up my sleeve, showing my scars. I tried pulling my hand away, but he was strong. “These,” he pointed to me arms. “Are battle marks. Marks that show that you’ve been to hell and back, but you’ve still stayed strong. Most of these scars will never leave you, but you need the right person to cover them up. To help you forget about them.”


“And who do you suppose this person is?” I was practically growling.


“M-“ he paused. “ Whoever it is, it’s someone who you mean everything to. Someone who cares for you.” He paused. “You can’t fight alone. No matter how far you run, these will just chase after you.” He dropped my arm.


“And these?” I took his arm, and pulled up his jacket sleeve.


“They mean nothing,” he whispered.


“They mean something.” I paused. “Each of our scars, they mean something. They have a story behind them; a purpose. And that person you find- their purpose is to listen. To listen and help you. Because every story needs a happy ending, and that person you find is yours,” I whispered.




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