Gwen: A One Direction Fanfiction

My name is Gwen Edwards-Malik, and I'm the daughter of Zayn Malik and Perrie Edwards. Since my parents broke up when I was a baby, I've been splitting time with my dad and One Direction and my mom and Little Mix for longer than I can remember. This summer, I'll be touring with One Direction. The problems: I can't stand my dad's new girlfriend, and the sheer amount of girls that love my dad and his band is ridiculous.


10. Rescued


I could barely hear the voices screaming over the roar that the fear and adrenaline created inside my ears. I could faintly tell that a crowd had formed at the scene. Of course. This was juicy stuff. Daughter of one of the world's biggest stars, kidnapped and dangling precariously over the ocean and her doom.

"Gwen! We're going to get you up here!"

There was a crash of glass behind me. A piece of glass hit me in the arm, creating a small wound. I whimpered in pain.

There was a silhouette above me now. A familiar silhouette. Messy, frizzy, curly hair, slightly chubby yet bony at the same time. Bony. I chuckled a little at my joke, delirious. She reached into the car, barely brushing my head.

"Gwen, I can't reach you. You have to trust me. Do you trust me?"

I cowered into the corner.

"Gwen, please. Let me help you."

I thought about it for a split second. I decided no, I would wait for actual, professional help to get here. I couldn't let myself be saved by a second-rate journalist.

Then the truck slipped a little lower with a horrible, mechanical, low-pitched squeaking sound. Erica screeched a little as she fell a bit with it, then pulled herself up and reached for me again.

"Please, Gwen. Just jump, just jump to me, I can pull you up. Or you can wait ten minutes for the police to get here. But I'd prefer you jump." she was leaning into the truck now. That's when I realized it.

She was leaning to me, knowing full well that my weight could pull her down into the truck with me. She was leaning to me, knowing that she would die if that mistake would happen. She was leaning to me, willing to save me at the cost of her own life. Willing to save me, her boyfriend's bratty ten-year-old that had treated her like crap all summer, knowing that she might die in the effort.

Maybe she wasn't so bad after all.

So I jumped.

She caught me just under my armpits and started pulling me up. The truck slipped lower with a sound like a sinking ship. Erica and I slipped with it. "Come on, come on." she mumbled to herself through her teeth.

And then the truck wasn't under me anymore, and there was a terrible splash from the deep waters below.

"I've got you, I've got you, I..."

And then she slipped too.

For a second, we fell. And then there was a jerk. Someone had grabbed Erica around her abdomen. And then we were safely on the bridge, pulled back up by the efforts of not just Dad and One Direction, but all the spectators that had gathered.

I started to cry.

"I'm sorry..." Erica started to apologize.

"Erica," I choked inaudibly.

"What? What did you just say, Gwennie?" Dad hovered, worried.

"Erica, Erica, Erica!" I wailed, sobbing, and threw my arms around Erica, crying like a baby.

Everyone saw it that day. When Gwendolyn Tricia Edwards-Malik finally warmed up. Not only to her dad's girlfriend, but to the whole world.

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