Change Me {h.s} complete

"Sometimes, you have to fight for what you want in this world."
I was normal, clever and innocent. He was strange, mental and dark. But it's like they always say, opposites attract


1. Chapter 1 New home



"A/N I wrote this when I was 13 and it's pretty crap I strongly suggest you don't even bother reading it. If you do sorry it's so awful.


"You must be the change you wish to see in the world" Mahatma Gandhi


"Prue, bring those boxes in will you!"Dad yelled staggering inside the kitchen weighed down by boxes.

His knees buckled with the weight as he slammed them down.


"Sure," I replied.


I rushed, outside and grabbed the last box. I looked up at the new house above me and sighed. My Dad, my grandma and I had just moved, to a small three bedroom house in Wiltshire  as Dad had just lost his job.

The countryside was much more beautiful than London, the rolling hills and breathtaking views made a big difference to the hustle and bustle of the city. However I couldn't stop a sharp pang working its way into my chest. Our house back home had been massive all my friends constantly wanted to come over and I was the talk of the school. With no job my Father lost everything including my popularity.


He used to work, for a big insurance company, meaning he was forever buying me new gadgets and new clothes.  I was the envy of my friends but now that was all gone.

To be honest I never really wanted any of that stuff. My Dad only bought it to make up for make up for the fact never home.

I'd sacrifice all of it to have my Mum back.She died in a car crash when I was 1 along with my Grandad that's why my Grandma has lived with us since that day.

Nobody excepts me to remember her. After all I couldn't even walk when she died. Little do they know that I remember a lot. I remember her sweet voice as she held me and her reassuring tone when I cried. Her appearance was harder as I was so young. In the picture on the mantelpiece she has long blond hair and granny like glasses. Although I always imagined her looking more angelic like. I didn't believe in heaven but I imagine her looking pure and being dressed in white.


I'm 17 now but I still miss her. My dads even worse he often cries in the middle of the night when he thinks I'm asleep. Sometimes I'll go and join him and he'll blubber all sorts of mushy stuff. His main fear is that I'm going to die like Mum. In those long hours we'd cuddle together and cling to each other for comfort. IN the morning though he'd get ready for work and act like it never happened. That's the problem with my Dad he hates anyone apart from me seeing him cry.


"Here's the last box," I called walking back into the kitchen.

It was a lot poker than our old kitchen. With all the fridge and the over being crammed into the corner along with two grubby counters. A small squat table sat in the corner with two rather lonely plastic chairs. It was a world away from the big airy rooms and shiny furniture we had in London.

"Thanks Prue," Dad panted leaning against the counter.

He looked around the room and gave me a nervous smile. I bit my lip I didn't want to disappoint him but telling him what I really felt.

"It's nice Dad," I said.

He sighed, "Well I suppose it makes a change, maybe it's our chance to get back to nature."

"I suppose so," I tried to say happily but my voice trailed away.


“Anyway I better go and check on Grandma, god knows what she’s up too”.

Sure enough in the few minutes it had taken me and my Dad to move the boxes, Grandma had made in a mile down the road.

I found her sitting on a bench staring at the sky.

“Grandma,” I said grabbing her arm.

She didn’t react pointing at the sky. She mumbled gibberish under her breath which obviously wasn’t directed at me.

My grandma developed alzheimers 2 years ago and she was getting worse than ever. She used to just forget stuff once in a while but now she struggled to even recognise me or Dad. Dad was planing to put her in a home as soon as possible but he didn’t have the heart to tell her.

“Grandma it’s Prue,” I whispered standing in front of her.

“Charles,” She mumbled.

I couldn’t help but want to cry. Charles was my Grandpa who had been dead for 16 years.

“No grandma it’s Pure your granddaughter. we need to go home.”

After several more minutes I managed to convince her to go back. I sat her down in the living room and left her to sleep. I covered with her blanket and kissed her cheek.

It made me want to cry looking at her. She always used to be so happy and full of life. Now she was nothing. Not only had Dad lost his wife but slowly he was losing his mother as well.

I went back into the kitchen where Dad was starting dinner.

“Dad’s she’s getting worse.”

He paused from where he was chopping onions.

“I called the nursing home earlier and she has a place ready and waiting.”

I patted Dads shoulder knowing how hard this must have been for him. With no Grandma it would just be me and him left. The tears in his eyes could’ve been caused by the onions but I guessed it was Dad trying to hide his emotions.

“Anyway you better have dinner and then get an earlier night.”

I rolled my eyes, “Dad I’m not a child.”

“I now but I don’t want you to be tired on your first day.”

I hated the idea of going to a new school. I loved my old one to much. It was one of the most expensive schools in the country and it was huge. It was also extremely laid back and we hardly ever did lessons only my Dad didn’t know the last part. I knew this new place would be awful.

After eating dinner and watching some tv I made my way to bed. It was a small room with a sloping ceiling and a small bed cramped into the corner. It was nothing like my old room.

Getting undressed I slipped into bed and opened up my laptop. I spent a while scrolling through social media before I turned my light off.

 I woke up the next morning not in any mood for the school. I got changed not really caring what I wore before making my way downstairs.

Grandma sat at the table staringly aimlessly into the distance. Her plate of bacon and sausages seemed to be completely untouched.

“Morning,” Dad said it a too cheery voice put my plate of food in front of me.

I thanked him before idly fiddling with the food. Dad's bacon was delicious with just the right amount of crispness but for some reason I could barely eat more than few moutfuls

"You're probably nervous," He said.

I rolled my eyes, although it was true. I was embarrassed that a girl of 17 felt awkward about going school.

I said goodbye to Dand and hugged my grandmas frail body. She gave me a small pat on the shoulder. I liked the gesture, at least she was trying.

It felt strange climbing onto the school bus. It was an old rickety thing. I never took the bus back in London. Dad's driver would always take me in.

In no time at all I found myself sitting in my new tutor group. The divides were obvious. You had the rowdy kids sitting in the middle peltinf each other with paper and just being general prats. The nerdy kids sat at the front reading or writing. The cool kids sat at the back. They didn't sit at the desk, but instead on them. They chatted, whilst casually sharing around  can of beer. One was even smoking although there was a strict no smoking policy in the school.

The teacher a short middle aged women with a bod cut eventually entered the room. She wore large red heels, which made a loud noise on the harsh wooden floor. This was a good indication for us that she was coming. The nerds quickly, straightened their posture. The rowdy kids quickly threw away the paper and the bad kids casually hid the can of beer.

"Good morning, students," She trilled open up the register, "are we all ready for another wonderful week."

A large groan came as her reply.

She raised her eyebrows. Letting out a small cough she started to read out the register.

"Prudence Jones," She called.

Several sniggers came from the back. I tried to ignore them. "Yes, Miss," I replied.

"Harry Styles."

There was no reply.

She repeated herself. Still not reply.

After several minutes of silence. The door eventually opened. To reveal a teenage boy. He was tall, with curly brown hair and a toned body. His clothes were worse than mine. He looked as if he'd thrown them together in 5 minutes. This didn't take away from the fact he was attractive.

"Harry Styles, you're late."

"Sorry," He said with no expression what so ever.

He was wearing long sleeves, but one had ridden up to reveal cuts all up his left arm. He saw me looking and quickly pulled the fabric donwn. I didn't say anything but I knew something must have been wrong with him. I just had to find out what.

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