Naomi Dalton has had a pretty tough life so far, by her parents leaving her to fend for herself at age 15, getting pregnant, and getting her baby murdered when she was 7 months pregnant by a rapist stabbing her multiple times in the stomach. Her existent was eventually consumed by drug abuse, alcoholism, self harm, and her entire family wants absolutely no part of her.

Six years later, she is granted a job at Vouge, one of the most prestigious magazine companies in the entire world, and is working as a receptionist for three months, until she is re-located to the Main Head-quarters in New York City. During her first working day, she is brought up into an interview assistant with one of the most famous boy bands in the entire world, one she was not a big fan of; One Direction. She had heard of them before, but knowing their constant fame, and their rugged female friends, and how many of them knew Her, she chose to have nothing to do with them once every single boy is assigned a receptionist job the same length of time as hers.

Dissapointed, she learns to except the change. But, eventually she begins to enjoy the boys, and become friends with them all. One has his eyes on here, and has ever since he noticed her, and she chose to never notice: That boy, was Harry Styles. Eventually, she realizes all the perks to being around the boys, but will she allow a romance to begin budding when she is informed that one of her most bitter enemies in high school was Harry's ex?


1. Past


June 14th, 2012

6:45 p.m

Charleston, Virginia


The ominous clouds consumed the skies around 5:30. I didn't expect it to rain today, but since I'm not even 40 miles from the Atlantic Ocean, anything goes. My parents and I have had yet another fight, once again over the baby. I was 7 months pregnant with a little boy, the father unknown. I went to a party last winter, and ended up in my bed with a boy I knew from school named Daniel. He was a party-type-of-guy, so I knew we didn't use a condom or anything. So, I took a pregnancy test about a week later, and it came out positive. My parents shit bricks on me, and called me every name in the book, a bastard, a slut, everything you could think of. It didn't surprise me they would be mad, because my Mother had me at 17.

Tonight, this fight was completely different. There was no yelling, just conversation. They said I needed to pack my things, and leave. I grabbed as many clothes as I could, packed them inside my ginormous purse, and closed the door behind me quietly. I went out into my plush green yard, and looked back at my house. A small brown house, with a few windows on the sides, an extra floor upstairs. It wasn't a great house, but this was my childhood house. I blew a kiss inside my mind to my bedroom window on the front top floor, and turned without looking back.

I begin to follow my usual path to Fiona's house: Going straight for 2 miles, then taking a left into the long stone driveway that led to her front door. As usual, she wasn't home on time. It didn't surprise me either, she's usually at work right now, or busy doing chores for her Grandmother. Hmph, Tool.

Noticing a small wooden bridge ahead of me, I instantly began to feel frightened. I was terrified of heights, and even though I've been over this bridge dozens of times, I never did when I was pregnant, I just drove over it with my parents' car. Now, I can only walk places until I have enough saved up. I clutch my bag and my belly tightly, making sure I was being protective. I inch my way across the small plies of smooth wood slowly, making sure nothing would cave underneath my weight. I felt a slight tug, and heard my purse fall to the ground beneath me, the contents spill all over the area of the bridge I surrounded. I lunge for my cigarettes, lip balm, clothes, and Aquafina, but my wallet plopped over on the side of the rails, where the cracks between safety and a 200-foot fall balanced it. I prayed that it would stay still as I began to inch over to it. My hands grazed over the smooth leather, and begin holding it. I shuffle back over to my purse, and try to place it back, but I was jolted. A small, single piece of plastic-covered paper slipped out from underneath the flaps, along with a few $100 dollar bills. Sighing, I grab the money, and count quickly. $400 dollars from my last paycheck. Damn, Target pays me good. I toss the bills back into my wallet, but begin looking at the photo. It was a picture of me, my father, and my mother when I was 8, our family portrait. My older brother is 24, and I see him anymore. He never showed up for portrait day, so it didn't surprise me. I begin studying the portrait with anger, feeling all of my fury in my throat.

My father and I look nothing alike, the only thing he is to me is a screw-up. He made our finances flush down the toilet with his drinking problems, and his constant beatings. I fucking hated him. Brown eyes, Black hair, a face full of that black hair, and tan skin. He looks absolutely nothing like me. It didn't bother me, I didn't want him in my life anyways anymore. He called my baby "a mistake everyone will regret knowing." I can't wait until he dies. I just want his will money, and I'll be on my way. Love doesn't live in this heart for my family anymore, only my unborn baby. He will be my family. I don't need them anymore.

I study the side that holds My mother and I. We are exactly alike. She's confident, has blonde hair, and my exact blue eyes. Her skin was as pale as mine, and she was just as curvy as me. My mother was a great woman, well, was. I won't ever see her again, probably. She's beautiful, her skin as supple as mine, a young health glow, inside a 43-year-old woman. My chest twisted and turn, pain stealing my heart away.

I grip the Cigarette lighter inside my pocket, and ignite a flame, and engulf the photograph into a small inferno, and watched my mother's face disappear until nothing remained except ash. I flick the ash off my hand, grip my satchel handle, and begin walking again.

I looked above me once again. The clouds were getting a more black color, and I was about a mile from Fiona's house, so I began speed walking. My ears sensed thunder behind me, a large bomb exploding the ground movements. I jump, and began rushing faster, my boots clicking along with me, and my jacket swaying at my sides. This certain jacket didn't have a hood, so I had to quicken my pace to her house.

I could hear a car rustling up behind me, but I continued not looking back. I smirked, and wondered why a jogger would want to walk her now, despite the groggy weather right now. Many marathon runners come to this single path, because of its beautiful senery, and the sun peeking through the trees during the day. I began to move faster, and was awaiting foot steps sooner than I got them.

Heavy steps were made, those of a monster. My ears perk up, and I quickly twist around to see a large man standing beside his truck. He whistled to me, and I just rolled my eyes.

"Hey honey, wanna come back to my house? I have enough room for your ass in here." He pointed towards the car, and winked at me. I felt disgusted, how unnatural for such a douche bag to even exist. I point to my watch, and said, "I have no time, I'm late to be at my friend's house." That made the man angry.

He came over to me, and began pushing me against a tree. Alarm immediately ran inside my stomach, yelling at me to run. He placed his hands onto my hips, and attempt to unbutton my shirt. I locked my fist up, and began punching him in the eyes. He retaliated with throwing my purse into the near-by field. I throw my fist once more, and it connects with his chin, causing him to fall to the ground, angry and bloody. I begin running, screaming 'help' as loud as I could.

Before I knew it, I was on the ground once again, feeling the weight of the man on top of me. I slapped, kicked, and punched, unable to hit the target. Finally, he grunted, and took out a large pocket knife. It was as sharp as a razor, even though I only saw it for a brief second. He shoved it beneath my coat cloth, and into my stomach, making me Gag on my own blood. I felt a dizzy feeling, as I felt a warmth spread beneath me. Blood was soaking my pants, and white shirt, melting my skin with its heat. He forced it into my stomach about 6 more times, until I couldn't move anymore. I lay in agony until I'm able to be left alone, seeing him walk into the deep distance.

I begin screaming 'help' once more, but I was fading away. The rain began soaking my body, or my already soaked body. I could hear movement behind me, and a screech. I slightly look to see Fiona's silhouette in the short distance between her and my house, and the action of running behind me. As I close my eyes, I realized one thing. I was dying. No, my baby was dying.

And, then I shut my eyes tightly, refusing any tears to be released. Then, I couldn't feel anything at all.

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