Going For A Jog

Emma West is just your average 17 year old girl. She loves One Direction. She is insecure about herself. She likes doing her hair and make up. She is out jogging one day when something completely unexpected happens!


14. Forever Young

God, I need to learn how to keep my mouth shut... literally. I glance at the clock. It is already one o'clock in the afternoon! Holy shit! Where did time go? I look down at my clothes and my cheeks instantly flush bright red. I am still in my over sized sweats and giant sweatshirt that goes to my knees. I am about to roll my sleeves up when I remember what I did last night. I don't want them to know. They will hold it over me and probably taunt and tease me about it. Well maybe not but still, it would make them large and in charge. I guess they kinda already are because they are One Direction and they kidnapped me. So it's not like I can just go as I please or anything. I am surprised they even gave me my own room. Ugh, I hope one of them doesn't have too sleep with me every night. No way am I letting that happen. They could rape me! And... no one would know because they kidnapped me. Shit, are they ever going to let me go home? I want to go home. Tears start to form in my eyes. No! I am NOT going to cry in front of them. They don't deserve my tears. They had saved my life but they basically took it away again when they kidnapped me. They don't deserve my love anymore. And they defiantly don't deserve my friendship. "Um... Emma?" I quickly wipe the tears out of my eyes and look up. They are all looking at me with a concerned gleam in their eyes. "Are... are you ok?" I nod and then force a small smile, "Yeah oh course. What makes you say that?" I really hope they didn't notice that I was going to start crying. "Well, you were mumbling things under your breath like rape and something about last night and the bathroom and not deserving your love or your friendship and then you were about to cry. So..." Louis stated rather matter-a-factually. Shit. I curse in my head. "Oh yeah... Sometimes I mutter random stuff. Totally random. I don't know where it comes from. Heck! I don't even realize I am doing it!" I then force out a super fake laugh. I am trying to convince them and myself. They don't look like they bought it. "Well, then you wouldn't mind if we asked you to roll up your sleeves then. Would you?" I gulped. "Actually yeah cause I am kinda cold." I lied. I couldn't let them see. I have never let anyone see. I am super insecure about what people think about me even though I pretend I don't care. I do. "There is no way you are cold, love. It is 75 degrees out" Liam countered. I gritted my teeth. "Yeah, but you see.. I am from California. Where it is hot ninety-five percent of the time. So anything below eighty is chilly to me. Ha. Ridiculous, I know." I avoided his counter but I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. Sooner or later, they are going to see me without my arms and legs covered. But I am not ready for them to see now. They all nod and I sighed in relief because I thought that a nod meant that they were accepting my pitiful excuse. But nooooo. Apparently in their language a nod means lets grab Emma, drag her into the living room, pin her down on the couch, and roll up her sleeves and pant legs against her will. I was kicking and screaming. If there are any neighbors around here, I wouldn't be surprised if they heard. But then again, this house is so big. It also wouldn't surprise me if there aren't any neighbors for a couple of miles. Who knew 5 boys would need such a big ass house. Well now it is 5 boys and 1 girl. But it wasn't when they bought it! Wait... right? Anyways I am kicking and screaming and Harry says, "Princess, we are going to see your arms and legs sooner or later. Just be a good girl and stop fighting." This only made me even more mad because I am not a fucking dog. But I stop fighting because I know he's right. I would rather them see the scars now, when I can run away into the bathroom and hide, rather then when I am asleep and can do nothing to stop them from looking at me and judging me. So I stop fighting and they all look surprised but Louis pulls me into his lap and Liam pulls off my sweatshirt and I am left in my bra and sweats. Zayn grabs my wrists and turns them over. I look away because I hate looking at the scars. I don't hear anything. No talking, no whispering, no anything. I looked back just to make sure they were still breathing. They were. And they were all just staring at me. They looked almost... hurt. But why would they be hurt? They aren't the ones who had to go through the stuff I went through. Then the look in their eyes changed. They looked... mad? "Why?" Harry demanded. "Why what?" I replied slowly, not wanting too get in trouble. "Why do you have fresh cuts? These weren't there when we.. when we kidnapped you. When did you do this?" I rolled my eyes but my mouth stayed shut. "Answer him!" Zayn commanded me. "When I was in the bathroom. After I shaved. It is something I have always done, why does it matter to you?" I looked all of them dead in the eye and got no response. I started to get up but Louis had an iron grip on me and wasn't letting go anytime soon. I sighed. "Why did you start?" Niall asked quietly. "I... I..." I started. I sighed again. "I have never been happy with my body. I am fat and I am not pretty. I was never good enough for any of the guys. I never got asked out. One guy told me he liked me and he was a year younger than me. When I look in the mirror, all I see is my flaws. I... I hate myself. I was going to kill myself. Three years ago." "I had written a note to my family and friends and everything. All I had to do was wait until my parents were asleep so i could go through with it. It was like 2 in the afternoon so I went on the computer to pass some time. I was on youtube when a video popped up. It was the What Makes You Beautiful video. I listened to it and after it was over, more videos of you guys kept popping up. So I watched all of them. Every last one of them. For the first time in a long time, I felt ok about myself. I made a decision to stay alive a couple more days so I could find out more about you guys. I put the note and pills away in a drawer because I thought I was going to go back to it. Slowly , a few days became a dew weeks. And before I knew it a year had passed and I hadn't touched the blade or even thought about killing myself. I went back to the drawer and threw away the pills and ripped up the letter. Now I had something I wanted to be alive for. The only thing that I thought about was One Direction this. One Direction that. But I didn;t mind because I owed my life to you guys. I spent all my time obsessing over you. Time melted away and another year passed and I still hadn't touched the blade. There were times when I looked in the mirror and I wanted to, but I would just lay in my bed, put my headphones in, blare your guys' music, and just forget the world. You literally saved me from myself. Prom night, homecoming, any school event that I didn't get asked to by a guy, I would just stay home and put my headphones in. My mom would try to get me to go. But I didn't want to. Because it would just remind me that the people at school didn't care. But a small part of me, felt like One Direction did care. They cared if I was alive or not. So I stayed at home but every night I stayed home, I stayed alive and I thought that mattered more than going to some dumb high school party that I wouldn't care about in a year. But I would care if I was alive. Because now, I had a reason to live." It wasn't until after I finished telling them my flashback that I realized that I was crying, and so were the boys. Maybe they actually cared too. "Emma..." Harry started. I looked at him with pleading eyes. I really didn't want to talk about this right now. "Umm, we will talk about this tomorrow. And then I fell asleep in a giant group hug. All of them rubbing my back. They were quietly singing Little Things. The last thing that crossed my mind before I fell into a deep sleep was that I had always had a special song, Little Things. It described how I felt about myself and how I hoped someone would one day feel about me. Maybe they really do care...

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