Caitlyn (A Niall Horan Fan Fiction)

It was too bright, I couldn’t open my eyes. Or better, the light was too bright. It meant, I wasn’t dead. Again. - Caitlyn Harris

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2. Chapter 2

I tried to adjust my eyes to the light. The room was white, as all the others in the hospital. I felt a tight grip on my left hand. I wanted to sit down to see who it was, but as soon as I raised my head, I felt a terrible pain, as if someone was stabbing it with a knife.

I immediately fell back on my pillow. I looked at my right wrist. It was all covered with cuts, which were visible even though I covered them with makeup before. But I was in the hospital, not even knowing why.

And then it hit me.

*flashback*

“You worthless slut!” My father yelled.

“Stop! Please, stop!” I cried out in pain, as he grabbed my hair and pulled me against the wall.

“Why should I stop? We both know you deserve this! You’re useless! Look at you, you’re nothing! Nobody loves you, haven’t you noticed yet?!”

He took the cigarette from his mouth and started running it all over my back. It burned and I begged him to stop, but he didn’t listen.

Until he got an idea, and did something that I’ve never expected from him.

He took my guitar and smashed it on the floor.

“Please don’t do this! It’s everything left I have from mother!”

I shouted as tears fell down my cheeks.

“There is no mother now! She is dead, and it’s your fault!” he replied.

I couldn’t believe he accused me for my mother’s death.

She had a car accident when I was thirteen, and I wasn’t even with her, I was out with friends at this time. I got a call from police and burst in tears when I heard what happened. I ran as fast as I could to catch the bus and get in there. I only saw a black covered body. I hoped it was a dream, but no. This truly happened. My mother was dead. I remember, crying for days, not being able to stop.

Can you just imagine hanging out with friends and getting a call from police, saying your mother is dead? Can you? No, you can’t. Exactly. Nobody can.

But that wasn’t everything. That was when my father started abusing me. He accused me for everything in this world, he hated me. He wasn’t the ‘lovely daddy’ that I used to know anymore.

Because of all my bruises, bullying and mobbing was something that I got used to at school. I didn’t have friends; I was always alone, on my own. That’s when I started self-harming. Pain was something that gave me the missing part of my life.

Relief.

What he just did was unforgivable; I couldn’t call him ‘father’ anymore. But I wasn’t even brave enough to touch him. I was weak. I ran up the stairs and shut the door loudly behind me, locking it. I wanted to go away from him.

I had to go away from him.

As soon as I took a bag from under my bed, I heard him pounding at the door and calling me things.

I quickly packed some of my clothes, makeup, my phone and some other stuff that I had place for. I threw my bag through the window and jumped after it. My room was on the first floor, so it wasn’t as easy at all. I admit, it did hurt. But I knew everything depended on it. I stood up and run, not even knowing where. I just wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

I was running for about a half an hour and I didn’t feel like continuing. I didn’t feel like living anymore.

Depression.

This time it really hit me. He was right. Nobody loves me. I have neither friends nor a boyfriend. And maybe it was my fault that my mother was dead. If I was next to her, I could have warned her of a car coming in our direction. But I wasn’t. I preferred hanging out with friends. So actually, it was my fault. Why am I still alive? I should have died already long ago. Died for her.

But I can still solve this problem.

Look Caitlyn. A car is coming.

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