Forgetting the past (1D)

Lauren Mathews' life is complicated - her dad was brutally murdered at the age of nine, her sister was kidnapped a year ago and her mum passed away from brain cancer. At the tender age of 15, Lauren never knew life could be so cruel. Until she was adopted by the five most famous boys in the World. Can One Direction make her see that her life wasn't destined for death and depression? But can there still be love? Life is unfair, happiness never lasts forever....


2. Chapter 1 - Lauren

The opening of the song ‘Thousand years’ by Christina Perri broke me free of the realistic nightmare I just had. Scratching my head, I swung my legs onto the soft carpet. I stumbled to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. A tall, slim built girl stood looking back at me. Chestnut brown hair tangled down to my shoulders - purple bags under my eyes.

“Dear God,” I mumbled, rinsing my face with cold water that washed the oil my face naturally made away. After a quick shower to refresh my thoughts, I grabbed a towel from the cabinet and went back to my room. I grabbed my IPhone and checked the time.

“Crap!” I exclaimed, shoving my tights on my legs and grey skirt over it. I buttoned my purple blouse, wrapped my tie around my neck and grabbed my school bag. Stuffing my feet in my shoes, I locked the front door behind me and ran to the bus stop.

I could see the coach driving in the distance. Sighing, I called Mrs Hargin (a friend of my mum’s) to pick me up for the millionth time.

I plumped myself on the curb and placed my face in my hands, letting a tear drop down my cheek. As soon as I saw the familiar blue car coming towards me, I wiped my face on my navy blazer sleeve and put on a brave expression.

“Good morning, Lauren. How are you on this jolly good day?” Mrs Hargin asked when I got in the front seat. I had ignored what the weather was like when I left home, so I looked out the window to see the sun shining brightly, hints of red and orange still in the horizon.

“I’m alright, thanks,” I said, mustering all the courage I could not to cry. Mrs Hargin had caught the message that I wanted to ride to school silently, so she left me in peace.

It was my dad’s sixth year death anniversary today. He had been brutally murdered in my own home. I still remember the pool of blood and hysterical crying from my mother. Coincidently, it had been exactly a year since my sister, Madison, had been kidnapped. The police assured me it wasn’t my fault, but it was. No words could tell me over and over again that it wasn’t my fault. Even my own mother thought it was my fault. She shouted at me that day when I came home to tell her Madison was gone. She even hit me. And she never does that.

I felt my right cheek where my mother had hit me for the first time. There was still a scar there, but I pretend I had accidently cut myself with a knife.

I regret all the arguing my mum and I had during the past year. Now she was going to leave me as well. She had been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer a few months back; she hasn’t got long to live. A few months’ maybe, weeks, days, or even hours.

“Thanks, Mrs Hargin. I owe you,” I said as I got out of her car when we reached Culley High school.

“Anytime, love. Anytime,” she replied, giving me a tight smile as she drove away.

After signing in at reception, I made my way to my tutor room. There was only a few minutes left, but I may as well go. Miss Smith gave me a quick nod as I sat down at my designated seat. She was used to me being fifteen minutes late. At least they excused me from detention – the perks of having a dying mother.

After the bell rang, signalling the start of our five minute walk to first period, my childhood best friend, Abby, came hugging me so tight I couldn’t breathe.

“Abby!” I attempted to say, although it came as an ‘Ahee!’

“What?” She asked innocently after she let me go. Although Abby was small, her and her dark red hair made her one of the most hyperactive girls in the entire world.

I sighed, and shook my head, while patting her on the head. “It’s ok to have mental problems, you know. I’ll always be with you.”

She slapped my hand away lightly. “I do not have mental problems, stupid! Kat does!” she pointed towards our friend, Katherine, who was texting on her blackberry. As usual.

“Hm?” she said, her eyes not leaving the screen. Abby and I rolled our eyes simultaneously. At only fifteen years old, Kat has had 109 boyfriends. You heard right. 109. She’s trying to get 150 by the end of the year. And at this rate she’ll most likely achieve it. It all started in Year three, when Megan, one of the cliché school bullies, challenged her to a bet.




14th March 2006

“I’ve had so many boyfriends, I’ve lost count!” Megan squealed, twirling her ginger hair around her little finger.

“Wow!” her peers gasped, amazed and influenced.

It was a cold Tuesday morning, and Kat, Abby and I were eaves dropping on Megan’s ‘so called’ boyfriend expedition.

“Show off,” Kat said, disguising it in a cough. Unfortunately, it didn’t work, and Megan’s sharp ears caught what she had said.

“Excuse me?” She asked, hands on her skinny hip as she diverted her green eyes towards Kat.

“You heard me,” Kat bravely said, cocking her head to the side.

“At least I’m wanted, unlike you,” Megan said, smirking in delight at the gasps of awe the crowd gave. No one –and I mean no one- dissed Kat’s parents like that. They were very intelligent, hugely successful lawyers. Just because they were away on business trips a lot and left their only child with an aunty who needed money doesn’t mean she was unwanted.

“You no nothing,” Kat hissed, spit flying out of her mouth.

All Megan did was raise her eyebrows, but that was effective enough.

“At least they’re happily married and have a lot of money, unlike you whose father has run off and mother has tons of kids who she gets adopted and lives with benefits,” Kat retaliated. Everyone held their breath. Yes, Megan’s family life wasn’t exactly ‘spotless’ but she had the attitude and style to ruin someone’s reputation.

A bit of pain flashed on her face, but she quickly covered it up with a smirk.

“Hm,” Megan hummed, stroking her chin as if she had a beard. “Here’s the deal, rich girl. Instead of ruining your social status, how about I make that when we’re in Year ten?”

Everyone was confused. What did she mean?

“What do you mean?” Abby dared to ask.

“I’ll wait until social statuses matter,” Megan said, as if it was obvious.

“Oh kay?” Kat said, not fully understanding the deal.

Megan sighed in frustration, and finally revealed what we all had been waiting for.

“Basically, we’ll have a bet. Whoever can have the most boyfriends by the end of year ten, wins, and the other’s status is ruined. Destroyed. Comprende?” She showed off her basic understanding of French, although everyone knew I was the one who could speak French best.

“Comprende, madame,” Kat said sarcastically, bowing down before sticking her tongue out, shaking hands with Megan. She tugged at Abby and my sleeves towards the Year three classroom.




 Rolling my eyes, I directed the three of us to Drama, where we would meet up with Jade, our friend in another tutor.

“’Sup?” Jade said, dumping her bag on the brown blocks with Abby, Kat and I copying her.

“Yo,” Abby replied, making peace signs with her fingers.

Everyone got in a circle. After Miss took the register, we began with a starter – I love you baby. The game is that the person in the middle has to make people laugh and say ‘I love you baby’. If you laugh, you’re out.

Abby is always first to get out, followed by me.



“I don’t know,” I replied to Jade’s question asking what was wrong. It was now lunch and (after four grueling hours) I was feeling anxious and a right mess. I knew something bad was about to happen. But what?

“Are you alright?” Jade asked.

Sighing, I covered my tears with my hands and mumbled, “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

I sniffled for a few minutes. The silence was comforting. Since we were sitting in the far corner of the field, there was no one but us. Me and my three best friends.

“Everything will be ok,” Jade comforted. But she was wrong. So wrong.



It was now three fifteen in the afternoon. We were watching The Hunger Games in tutor. Well, attempting, might I say. Although subtitles were on, everyone was chatting loudly, the boys playing football in front of the screen, and the girls were fixing their hair for a party tonight. Jade and Abby were also talking about the party, and Kat was on her phone, no doubt texting her current boyfriend about it.

“Can I talk to Lauren Mathews, please,” the head of year nine and ten, Mrs Jones, said at the door.

“Yes?” I asked when we were in the narrow corridor.

“I’m sorry to say, but I have bad news.” Her face was full of worry and sadness.

“Wha- what do you mean?” I stuttered, shaking my head.

“You’re mother has unfortunately passed away a few minutes ago. I’m sorry.”

I knew this was coming, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon. Black smudges appeared in my vision. The floor was slanted sideways and soon my vision appeared black.



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