Crumbling Walls (1D not famous)

Mariella thinks she is all alone in her life. She gets bullied every day and abused by her stepfather, all because she's Irish. She had no one until she met him - Niall. Pretty soon she has a whole crew of friends by her side - Jannsen, Jolene, Abby, Perrie, of course Niall, with Louis, Harry, Liam, and Zayn in his band called One Direction. Enjoy the love, drama, and friendship in store. (that sounds cheesy but i promise it's not)


NOTE:
I DO NOT SUPPORT ANY NEGATIVE ACTIONS PERFORMED IN THIS MOVELLA. I STRONGLY DISAGREE WITH THE IDEA OF CHILD ABUSE, BULLYING, AND SELF HARM.


ANOTHER NOTE:
If you saw the movie Brave, it would be easiest to read Mariella's parts in Merida's voice. (i just realized how close their names are.)


WARNING!!!
SOME SCENES MAY BE GRAPHIC OR TRIGGERING! READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED! (is that a thing? it is now!)

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4. A Normal Day

 

Mariella's  P.O.V.

*THE NEXT DAY*

 I am woken up by the special ringtone to Niall's contact. I pick it up and lay back down in my bed.

"Morning Mariella."

"Morning Niall. What's up?" I ask, getting out of bed and walking to my closet.

"Nothing much. I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice before I went to school."

"OMG Niall! That's so sweet! I couldn't wait to get to school so I could see you. Ready for today?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. I'm gonna try to avoid those bullies because my mom's getting suspicious of where all of these bruises are coming from."

"I could come home with half my body missing and my stepdad wouldn't give a shit."

"About your stepdad . . . what happened last night?"

"Uh . . . I'll tell you at school. Later Niall." 

I hang up and flop face-down onto my bed. Why in the hell would I even bring up Brad when Niall was on the phone while shit got crazy? I think to myself. I push those thoughts out of my mind and walk back over to my closet. I end up picking my purple Toms, black skinny jeans, and a hoodie with my name airbrushed onto the front to hide my cuts. I put on my purple horn-rimmed glasses ("nerd" glasses) and put my hair into a loose ponytail. I apply some makeup to hide my bruises, grab my backpack, and quietly leave the house. The walk to school was lonely, but at least my pain wouldn't start before school did. Niall texted me to meet him outside the school so I can tell him what happened. Part of me doesn't want to tell him, but he's the only person in my life that's happy I'm alive. I know I have to, but it won't be easy.

When I arrive, Niall is the first person see that doesn't turn around and whisper or yell something at me. We sit down at a bench in front of the school so we can talk. People point at us and laugh, and some even attempt to do an Irish jig. Niall and I laugh hysterically when one girl falls down while trying to dance, and we stop when she turns around and glares at us. Niall grabs my wrist - the cut one - and starts to run. I abruptly pull my arm away and run along side him.

We stop in front of my locker as I take books out and Niall waits for me. He puts his hand on my shoulder and I instantly back away, remembering last night with Greg. Niall looks at me with worried eyes. 

"Mariella, what . . . actually happened last night?"

I close my locker and rest my head on it. I stand all the way up and look him in his bright, blue eyes with my teary ones.

"My stepdad. He-"

"He what? Mariella. What. Happened." he asks, putting emphasis on every word.

"He . . . hits me. A lot. Like, every day, a lot. But last night was different."

"What did he do?" Niall asks, almost sounding angry. Not at me, at my stepdad. I swipe my sleeve at a tear that has rolled down my cheek.

"He . . . raped me."

"WHAT?!?" 

"And he's been abusing me since my mom died back in Dublin about a year ago. He's raped me before, about a month after she was killed in that terrible car wreck. With him, my stepbrother, and all of this bullying, I just couldn't take it anymore. So, I . . . cut myself. That's why I pulled my arm away earlier."

Niall swiped his wrist at a tear forming in the corner of his eye. He takes my hands, careful of my wrist, and looks me straight in the eyes.

"Mariella, you are absolutely beautiful. You are a wonderful, kind, smart, totally awesome girl. Never let anyone tell you anything different.". He looks like he wants to say more but decides against it.

"Thanks so much Niall. I'm so glad I have a friend like you to help me through all of this mad shit." Something, deep down, wanted to use a stronger word than . . . friend. I'll have to wait until tonight to know if Niall does too. 

"Friend . . . yeah." he mutters, looking at his feet. I don't think I have to wait to know for sure. "See you in third period, Mariella." He hugs me before walking away. I finish taking my things from my locker before slamming it shut. I have to run to class. Not because I'm late. It is the only way to not be bombarded my spitballs, paper planes with hurtful things written inside, and racist remarks.

During class, the only thing I can do to not have a nervous breakdown from being constantly hit with balls of paper and pencils is think about Niall. How can I pay attention to Ms. Starner blab on about personal pronouns or kids trying to make you snap for a viral video when I can think about my best friend/crush or how pleasant it is to not have my wall destroyed constantly.

I stop at my locker on my way to second period. I look in the magnetic mirror on my locker door and feel my eyes tearing up when I hear . . . them. I jump back when the door is suddenly slammed shut, revealing Kaitlynn, Amy, and Stephanie. 

"Ew girls, it's back."Kaitlynn says, looking at me in disgust. "Why do you even bother showing your face around here, you ugly, worthless, bitch?" Amy asks. I know she doesn't want an answer, but I wouldn't give her one anyway. "Turn around you fat cow! I can't stand looking at your ugly face anymore!" Stephanie yells, spinning me around and shoving me onto the floor. The girls are about to begin my beating when a teacher walks past, and they hurry away.

I stand up and venture into the middle of the wretched battleground that is the hallway. The only difference is there is nobody on my side to fight with me. The kids go through their daily routine of harassing me between classes. Calling me names, smacking my books from my arms, tripping me, putting signs on my back, throwing things at me, and sticking things in my hair are normal for me. "Depressed" has been my new "happy" ever since mom died and my wall started crumbling down.   

It's kind of sad, actually . . .

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