Sticks And Stones

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

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3. Could I Make It?


-HARRY’S POV-

 

My hands trembled the letter fell out of my hands. How could anyone ever make someone feel this way? How badly could someone be hurt- to think of these things? But, I know how it feels. I know what the hate can do. It builds up inside you to the point where these thoughts cross your head. When the only thing you can think about is hurting yourself. Just hurting someone to a point where the thought of suicide crosses his or her mind, that’s wrong. If you’re told these things countless times everyday, you start to believe it. You start thinking, what if I am worthless? What if I really am… trash? But you also wonder why. Why they call you these names. People who know nothing about you, constantly bashing you for no reasons. We all have battle marks- but for some people, it’s too deep. I pulled my shirt sleeve up and looked at my wrist. A shudder passed through me as I saw the scars on my hand. Moments in time flew through my mind- memories that I’ve tried so hard to forget.  But her and I are different. I’m also told everyday I’m not. People who don’t even know me praise me. But she doesn’t have anybody. She doesn’t even have her family, let alone friends. All she needs is for someone to love her. Someone who’s going to call her beautiful every second of the day. But was what she really said true? Do girls everyday do this? Get so hurt to a point where they do this? Where they think they are worthless- and… cut?  I picked up the envelope and read the address. This letter was sent yesterday from… Toronto? Is that even possible, for a letter from there to be sent that fast? I shook my head as I took my phone out of my pocket. I quickly unlocked it and opened my twitter. I searched ‘Erin Bradshaw’, and two results came up. My heart raced as I opened the first twitter account, and I was astonished. She was beautiful. I couldn’t see her eyes, but I could see that she had deep brown, chocolate coloured hair. I scrolled into her description, and it broke my heart.

 

‘In love with 5 boys who don’t know I exist- but that’s okay, it’s the end.

 

Toronto, Canada’

 

I tapped her follow button, and looked at her tweets. Her most recent ones had said,

 

‘@erinbradshaww: it’s been a long time since i’ve been happy.’

‘@erinbradshaww: just got in the taxi :) london is an extrodinary place.

‘@erinbradshaww: going to check in at my hotel, the Lanesborough Hotel is a beautiful place :) .x’

 

Her last one was 52s ago. Could I make it? Could I meet her there? I set my settings to ON, so I would get notified every time she tweeted something. It was 8:30am, so all of the boys were still asleep, since we weren’t on tour. I tiptoed over a snoring Zayn on the floor, carefully going towards my closet. I put on a pair of black skinnies, and white tank top, and quietly ran out the bedroom. As I passed by the counter, I grabbed my green beanie, and some glasses. I can’t have anyone see me, especially right now. Before I locked my phone, I made a quick tweet.

 

‘Hiiiiii. It’s a beautiful morning isn’t it? .x’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

:) Updated again! Thoughts? Thanks potatoes :) xx

-alexis

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