"I'm born in Wolverhampton on the 24th of December." I barley start talking when Louis interrupts. "I'm also born on December the 24th!" He likes screaming a lot I notice. The other boys shh him. "Let her tell her story you idiot." I think that it is Zayn who says that.
"I remember that my parents were really happy with me. They were rich, so I didn't have anything to complain about. Everybody thought my live would be perfect. We were one happy family. Not, my parents were gone half of the time, but when they were at home I had a great time. I don't remember a lot of how my parents were, because they were working a lot. And because they died on my second birthday. Tragic isn't it? My father was driving home from a visit in the hospital. My gran was laying there, because of a broken hip. It was dark and I couldn't stop crying. I never liked the dark, but it was like I felt something terrible would happen. My mum turned around facing me, telling me that if I would be quiet I would get something to eat when we were home. But I didn't stop crying. So she took me out of my seat in her arms. Light fell over the car. I heard the squealing brakes of a car. My mum opened the door and trowed me out to save me. The next thing that happened was that the other car hid our car at the left door. I was laying on the ground, in the grass. It didn't took long for the ambulance to find us. Too late. My dad died immediately and my mum died on her way to the hospital." And again I get interrupted. This time by Harry.
"I'm so sorry that that had to happen to your parents." Why can't these boys let me finish telling my story that I don't like to share? And why do people always pity you whenever you tell them your parents are dead? The boys look at me like I am crazy
"I said that out loud, didn't I?" I ask. Harry nods.
"Sorry, I didn't knew that you didn't like to tell your life story." Harry apologized. I shrug my shoulders and tell further.
"I try to forget what happened that day. But I can't. I can't stop remembering it. I remember waking up in the hospital, in a white room full of other baby girls and boys. They all looked at me. One boy crawled towards me, asking me who I was and why I was there. The truth was that I didn't know. A doctor walked in, shooing the little boy away. He took me to other people. Told me that they would learn me how to talk, crawl and walk. I think that they didn't realize that I already knew how to talk, crawl and walk. I spent six months in the hospital. Learning to talk, crawl and walk. But most of all learning how it was to be alone." I see that Liam wants to say something, but I put my hand up and give him a look like: 'Don't even dare to...' And I think my look is what kept him quiet.
"After the 6 months in the hospital they made me go to an adoption house. I came there when I was 2 and a half. Annie's adoption for girls and boys was it called. It was a disaster living there. The girls scratched my skin and the boys pulled my hair. All because I screamed at night. I relived the night my parents died over and over again. Annie - the mother of the house - didn't take care of us at all. She hated us. Nobody understood why she had an orphanage house when she didn't even like us. I spent 3 months there before it was closed down. The doctors of the hospital asked my aunt and uncle to take care of me, but they said no. It was my fault my parents were dead, they said. My family wanted nothing to do with me anymore. They left me alone. So the doctors placed me in another orphanage house. The people who ran this house were nice to me. They took care of me. I got bulled there for being smarter, smaller, fatter. I got bullied for everything the children could possibly think of. What was quite a lot when you know that it was a house for children to the age of 8. They would hit me, kick me, give me scratches. I still had nightmares. I couldn't stop remembering the day my parents died. But one day it changed. It was the day after my 4th birthday. 2 people came and fostered me. Later when I was 5, they adopted me. Their names were Larrie and Samantha. They made me move to Manchester. That was were they lived. We moved away from everything. And I was happy with that, because it would mean I could maybe forget about everything that had happened. I had a wonderful time there when I was fostered. When I was adopted... Let's say my time was not so great..." This time I couldn't stop them from talking.
"Why was your time being there as their adopted child not so great?" Niall asked. I sigh a deep sigh.
"I was about to tell that, when you interrupted me. Again."
"Sorry." And again they apologize. What means they interrupt me again.
"Larrie and Samantha had been really nice to me once I was adopted, but that was only for 2 weeks. Samantha had gotten pregnant. They wanted to bring me back to the house, but that would make them look bad, so they didn't. Samantha had lost her own kid once, that's why they adopted me. So she couldn't lose a kid that was her flesh and blood. But now she was pregnant and I wasn't needed anymore. Since it was law I got put in school were I learned to write and read. Next to all the schoolwork I had to do, Larrie gave me a list of stuff to do in the house everyday. The more months past by of Samantha being pregnant, the more work I had to do in house. I was there slave. There own personal Cinderella." A tear felt down my cheek. Niall gives me a hug. The stories are true. He really is a good hugger.
"Thanks." He says.
"I said that out loud, didn't I?" I ask. He nods. I'm still in his arms when I tell further.
"I was 6 when the baby was born. It was in the middle of the night and I had to help. It was dark, because the lights didn't work. The baby was a girl. Larrie and Samantha named her Patricia. They called her beautiful, pretty, wonderful, a gift from god. She was the best thing that ever happened to them. But not to me. I saw she was ugly, stupid and mean. She made my life a living hell. She wasn't a nice baby girl. More like the assistant of the devil itself. She didn't want to sleep at night and cried at day. Larrie gave me more work to do. All the dirty baby things he and Samantha didn't want to do. Like washing her, change her diapers, dressing her, feeding her.
My happy life turned into a nightmare. At night I saw the accident all over again, at day Patricia, Larrie and Samantha tortured me. Combining school, homework and the work in house was really hard. But I managed to do that. To everyone's surprise I didn't lose control.
When I was 8 I had done something wrong. It was on Patricia's 2nd birthday and the capitol 'p' on the cake wasn't the way Samantha wanted it. She took me by my ear and pulled me upstairs to my room. "You wont get any food today! You ruined the cake of Patricia! How could you!" She yelled at me. Than she did something I never thought she would do. She slapped me. In my face." Silent tears streamed down my face. Niall gives me another hug, but this time all the boys join him. We are in a massive group hug. With me in the middle. Louis wipes the tears away.
"You don't have to tell further if you don't want to." It is nice of him, but I shake my head, wipe the tears away (Again) and tell what happened next.
'From that moment I knew that she didn't love me anymore. Another slap was given. "That was for crying over something so small!" She yelled at me. She kicked my stomach. "For being worthless!" And than she walked away. I didn't understand what worthless meant, but probably something bad. Otherwise she wouldn't have kicked me in my stomach. I lay down on the hard bed, clutching my knees to my belly. From that moment everything had changed. I could feel it."