Ad-dic-tion. (a~dik~shun). noun.

—A psychological or physiological dependence, especially on a drug.


Cutting. Alcohol. Throwing up. Drugs. Starving. Cigarettes. Burning.

Brittany Nicole Mellinger was addicted. She self harmed. No doubt abut it. She was of age, so she drank when she needed to clear her head. She smoked once and a while. She used drugs rarely. Yet she was addicted.

When walking through the rain, while scratching herself with her finger nails because her razor was absent, she bumps into Harry Styles.

Will the guy she used to believe “saved her life” save her again? Will he just mumble an apology and leave? Or will he noticed the thousands of scars on her arms and legs and ask about them?


Addiction. Something that’s not good for you at all, but that you keep needing and wanting anyway.


1. I'm So Sorry!

Britt's POV

I drug my sharp middle finger from my elbow to my wrist on the inside. I did that repetitively. "You should be dead." I growled to myself. "You're a monster. An ugly, fat, stupid monster."

Those were such simple words! I could never truly express how terrible of a.... thing....I am.   I sighed as I continued to harm myself.

"No one will ever love you." I muttered. "Why would they? Look at yourself! No, don't. You''l be blinded by hideousness. Since when do you care? You're gonna kill yourself any day."

I had on my headphones, with the volume at its maximum with two songs on repeat. Both by Imagine Dragons, Monster and Demons. I hated that the described me so much.

"Damn it, that's it." I spit. I started walking faster, my head to the ground.

Not even ten steps later, I had walked int someone. "I am so sorry." I gasped

I looked up and saw these piercing emerald green eyes and thick brown curls. I gasped again. "H-h-Harry?"

I pulled out my phone and turned off the life describing songs. "You're Harry Styles, aren't you?" I asked again

He looked at me once more. "Would you scream if I was?"

"No. I'd probably just ask two simple I'd probably just yell at myself for even becoming a damned Directioner and falling in love with that stupid Tomlinson kid and walk away before you could think twice about me."

"Then....." he trailed off, unsure of what to say because of my answer.

"Are you him or not? That's all I'm asking."

He sighed. "Yes."

"Okay." I nodded. I looked at him, but couldn't keep my gaze set on his eyes. My eyes trailed down his body to soon get to the ground. But I saw his shirt was a button down, and some of his skin was showing. I saw black ink and a smile curled onto my lips.

"What?" he asked, smiling

I slapped myself, right in front of the famous celebrity. I was furious with myself. "How dare you fall back into that trap again." I growled to myself

"Are you talking to yourself?" he asked. He heard my voice, but not my words. Thank God.

"Yes. You can talk to yourself, just don't answer yourself back." I smiled, quoting one of his tweets. I then, without thinking, slapped myself again.

I was so mad at myself for remembering this. "Wait...are you a Directioner or not? And, Love, why are you slapping yourself?"

The fangirl in me blushed because he called me, "Love." But the monster in me fought back.

"Just, please." I managed. I raised my arms and my sweatshirt's sleeves feel down to my elbows. I gasped, for my scars were showing. "Oh my chapstick."

He saw them. "Love...."

I couldn't think. So, out of pure shock, I took his hand and ran into the nearest dark alley.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...