Cry Louis, Cry (One Direction Not Famous)

Amara Lake hides all her troubles that bother her at home. She turns all her fears into anger, and picks on one boy in particular, just because he was the first person she saw when she walked through the doors. Yeah, he has his friends, but that doesn't stop Amara from making him feel like rubbish.
She picks on Louis Tomlinson.
One day, when Amara is sent to hospital after taking a beating too much from her father, Louis finds out the truth and him, and his friends Zayn, Harry, Niall and Liam, all forgive her, but she can never forgive her dad.
Then, she finds something she never thought she could find. Love.

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4. Chapter 4

Louis' POV

"Lucky us, she's not in school!" I laugh loudly, pushing Zayn joyfully away from me. I suddenly see my history teacher (who is also Amara's) running past, tears streaming down her face. "What's up with her?"

Liam, being the worried one, goes after her. "Miss. What's wrong?" He inquires, with a serious tone to his voice. A frown is put onto his face as she shakes her head frantically.

"Nothing, don't worry... You better go to form." She then rushes away, and we start heading to form. 

"I really wonder what's up with her," Niall says, biting his lip. 

"Boys, probably." Harry sniggers, and I push him. "Stop it!" He yells, angry. I simply roll my eyes and go into my form room.

But my form tutor isn't there.

"Seriously. What the hell is going on!? All the teachers look so sad or aren't even here!" I yell, angered. Amara isn't here too. Maybe they've finally gotten rid of her.

"Uhm, Louis." The tearful voice of my form tutor makes its way into my ears. "Sit down please."

Amara's POV

"Amara! Can you hear us?" The voices choke my ears. Of course I can hear them, I just can't open my eyes or speak. Who is it anyway? It doesn't sound like Peter.

"Amara, please wake up. You're safe now." Safe? What on earth does that mean?

"You're safe," the same male voice repeats. "Yes! Her heart beat is slowing down, becoming normal!" He cries out, as if he cares. No one can ever care.

My eyelids are heavy, almost like weights are pushing them down, but I manage to open them. A white room surrounds me. "How did I get here?" I think aloud, and sigh when I realise everyone heard. "Where's Peter?!" I cry, sitting upright.

But then I begin feeling dizzy and feel myself rolling back into unconsciousness, until a hand sits itself on my shoulder. "Everything's alright now. He's in prison." 

"In prison?"

"Yes. In prison."

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