A lightweight: Somebody that has been broken many times, and can break very easily.

Due to a past relationship, Darcy has turned into a sensitive and cautious young lady. Darcy already had more than enough troubles before she met her abusive boyfriend Andrew such as depression, low self-esteem and self-harm. So when she meets the kind hearted, beautiful and friendly Harry Styles she wonders if she deserves to have such a wonderful person in her life. Harry finds something beautiful about Darcy, and is very captivated by her. Harry makes it his mission to remind Darcy what it feels like to be loved, to feel worth something.
However Darcy is very fragile which requires her to be treated like a feather.
Or a lightweight.

Warnings: Self harm drugs, alcohol, sex, abuse and swearing.


1. Prologue

The cold winter air nipped harshly at my face, creating goose bumps to arise from the surface of my pale skin. I deeply inhaled the dirty smoke of my last cigarette, the ash of it slightly burning my white lips. I cautiously pressed my ear against the window of my apartment that I was standing outside of, trying to listen out for any sign of movement within. I could feel my eyes beginning to droop, I was tired – tired of life, if I was honest but I didn’t want to sleep. I couldn’t sleep.

“Catchya later babe,” the sickening voice said, tracing me from my thoughts. I turned around to see his disgusting face sitting in his Mercedes. He had a dirty little look plastered across his face – the type of look that made my stomach churn.  

“By the way, I took 150 bucks from your purse, hope you don’t mind.” Andrew chuckled darkly and then drove off into the distance. I wanted to stand up, run after him and scream, “No you fucking dick head, it’s not!” or give him more of a lecture along the lines of, “I’m not a piece of plastic. I have feelings. I have a life to live and you are ruining it. You are ruining everything,” but I knew that the ache in my legs would make it nearly unbearable to run and besides if I did that, I knew what was coming for me.

I took a deep breath in and managed to drag myself inside. Dreadfully, I made my way over to the mirror and shut my eyes, preparing myself for the reflection I was about to see. I was expecting to see my same old skinny frame, dirty blonde hair and pale eyes but no matter how anxious I was, I needed to inspect my injuries. My life hadn’t always been this way. All the rape and abuse had only featured in my life since Andrew appeared. And looking back now, I could have escaped it all, but I didn’t. And that haunts me every single day.

When I first met Andrew, he seemed sweet, charming, intriguing. It was in the summer, a time of year that I don’t particularly enjoy. I know what you’re thinking, how can anybody hate summer? I don’t hate the sun, nor do I hate the pools or flowers or laughter. I just hate the fact that I can no longer hide my body away. In winter, at least I can wear cute winter outfits with layers of coats and scarves and mittens and beanies. But in summer, it’s nearly impossible to hide away my body. If I did try to wear jackets or pants to cover my self-loathed figure I would get too hot and start to sweat, which is just another unattractive trait that I can’t afford to add to the list. Summer brings out my insecurities at their worst. I see all the other beautiful, not-too-skinny-not-too-fat girls enjoying themselves without a care in the world and get sad. I just envy them so much for not having to worry about all the things I do. So when I met Andrew, I felt wanted – which is a feeling that I rarely ever have the chance to feel. He made me feel that if I went out with him all my insecurities would go away – which they did, for a while. He bought me presents, complimented me, and drove me anywhere I needed to be. Little did I know that it was just a part of his big plan to completely and utterly ruin my life. Little did I know that he was just sucking me into his trap of agonizing torture.

 But I guess it’s a perfect example of how everything is not as it seems. After no more than a month with Andrew, the abuse was becoming regular. The physical pain he caused me, I could handle. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional pain. Loneliness, sadness, anger and emotions that I didn’t even know I could feel ran all throughout my system and ate me up inside. It completely consumed me. It was like I was standing there, watching my life crumble and fade away right before my eyes but I couldn’t do anything about it. All I wanted to do was scream, but as soon as I opened my mouth all that escaped my bruised lips was silence. And if I did catch myself on the verge of screaming, I stopped myself imediently because I knew the consequences far too well.  Andrew brought this constant fear and distress upon my life.

Unhurriedly I opened my eyes. My same old skinny frame was there, my same old dirty blonde hair was there too, and my pale eyes that were a clear symbol of how scared and alone I was were staring back at me, like always. My whole appearance screamed vulnerability. And the fresh bruises on my face did not help that fact at all.

I completely loathed what Andrew did to me, how he affected my life. But I hated the way that I let him affect me even more, I felt weak, pathetic.  I shouldn’t have let him stop me from living my life. I knew what everybody would think though if I did try to stand up for myself. I was small, I was frail. What was little old Darcy going to do? Fragile little Darcy, the girl that looks harmless, the girl that even a wrong look can cause tears. The girl that was so fragile, a simple nudge on the arm would make her combust. But if only they knew how strong I really was. Not on the outside, but on the inside. Every hit and every word of abuse from Andrew just made me stronger. But Andrew hid me away from the world; I would never even get a chance to prove them all wrong.

I started to breath really heavily; the thoughts of Andrew did that to me a lot. I felt the muscles deep in my stomach tighten and my anxiety began to take control; it surged through my entire body, almost like I was crawling out of my own skin. Salty tears blurred my vision but my eyes darted around the room, in a frantic search for the blade. My breathing began to fall heavy but I knew that if I didn’t do something physical to match the way I felt inside, I would explode. It was an addiction now. I didn’t care about the consequences of my cuts; I didn’t care about what would happen. I had no fear. I cut myself to take my mind off everything. I cut myself so that I could have some control over something, because I didn’t have control over anything else. I hurt myself on the outside, to kill the thing on the inside. It was a way of expressing my own shame, of myself, on my own body. My cuts were private though, they were for my eyes only. I hid them away from everybody else – the way Andrew hid me away. I was getting quite good at hiding them as well, as they say; practice makes perfect. Not even Andrew had discovered them yet – probably because he didn’t really care enough to look - but even if he did I already knew how he would react. I had two guesses. 1. He would laugh at me, not out of pity or sympathy but because he generally thought that it was funny. He got a kick out of seeing me in misery, in pain. 2. He would be disgusted. Disgusted by the fact that I had hid it for him, disgusted by the fact that I made myself even uglier then I already was or disgusted by the fact that somebody else was causing me pain other than himself.

A puff of relief escaped my lungs as my eyes found the blade that I was looking for. With shaking hands, they fumbled and reached for the blade. My heart seemed to be beating twice as fast as normal, maybe out of the adrenaline I got out of cutting? Maybe out of nerves? Maybe out of enthusiasm or anticipation or thrill? Or maybe out of the instant relief I knew that I was going to feel as soon as I pressed down and the blade cut through my skin? But my head was a chaotic, jumbled mess and there was no way of thinking clearly. I sighed and attempted to gather my composure – or at least what I had left of my sanity. Once my heart seemed to have a regular, steady pace I held the blade against my skin. I could feel the cold metal against my already cold flesh.

I heard my small, unwelcome subconscious whisper, “no. You don’t need to do this.” But it was too late. My subconscious was too weak, and was overruled by the demons inside my head. The demons that weren’t too different from Andrew. 

I looked down and saw my own blood oozing out of my skin. I can’t really remember much after that. All I can remember is that everything started to move around me, like I was falling deeper and deeper into the ground continuously, and then everything started to blur and fade away and eventually turned to black.

I think the thing that scared me the most about it all was that when I woke up, I was happy about it. Really, really happy.


This is my new fic and I’m not sure if I love or hate it. I’ve worked quite hard on it, and I would love some feedback! But thank you to everybody who read this regardless of if you liked it or not. It means a lot! Xxx 

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