One direction imagines >.<

Just a bunch of one direction imagines... You can write in and I will make you an imagine.. But I've also got a tumblr account that is gonna effect it


13. suicidal

Liam: You can't take it anymore. Your younger sister's wedding is just a few days away. She's younger than you. Shouldn't the older sister, you, be getting married first? Not to mention what a complete bridezilla she's being. "(Y/N) you're too fat for that dress, you are GOING TO RUIN MY WEDDING" she said. "You look like a troll, the make up artist is going to need to use ALL THE MAKE UP ON YOU AND THERE WON'T BE ENOUGH" she said. You know she's stressed but the words are things you've thought to yourself so many times. Her thoughts are things you've seen on twitter, too. So much hate. Too much hate.

You were always sensitive, and this wedding was just about to be your breaking point. You sit on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, knife shining in your hand. You'd never cut before, but this was all too much. You didn't plan on just one or two cuts to the thigh. You wanted cuts right to your veins. Bleeding to death is better than being ugly, you think. You know you're being irrational, but you can't think straight. Tears pour down your cheeks. The tip of the knife slices through your skin, blood drips down your arm. Your vision is blurred with tears. Red is all you see. Deeper. Deeper. You sink the knife deeper into your arm and wince from the pain. "Jesus Christ," Liam runs over to you and rips the knife out of your hand. You hadn't even heard him walk into the bathroom.

He grabs a towel and wraps it around your arm. "(Y/N), (Y/N)," he whispers, his eyes filling with tears. He calls an ambulance and hugs you, pressing the towel on your arm to calm the bleeding. "Why? Why didn't you ever tell me? What made you do this? Please," his voice is choked with sobs, he looks at you with such sadness. "I don't ever want to lose you, don't do this ever again," he says. You look up at him and then to your arm, wrapped in a once-white towel that is now red and pink. "I, I just.." you can't explain. You just lean into his chest until the ambulance arrives. Liam stays with you the whole time, mumbling to himself "How didn't I see this coming? How did I let it get this far? I'm an awful boyfriend...It's all my fault..." You shake your head. "No. It's not your fault, Liam. Please don't think that," you say later, once your arm has been stitched and bandaged, as you lie in the hospital bed. "But, what if I hadn't stopped you?" he stammers. "I'm glad you did," you reply, and saying it out loud and seeing his face filled with love and know it's true.

Harry: You read all of your mentions, scrolling down, each tweet pushing you closer to the edge. Closer to losing it. You hate how these people, these they can get to you. You hate how words can slice you like this. Just letters, words, sentences. They mean nothing to the people writing them. Trying to be funny? Mean? They make you feel awful. Harry Styles' girlfriend, probably the most sought after position among teen girls, and even older girls. You have it, but the grass isn't so green on this side.

You love Harry so much, but you can't take it. You can't keep doing this. You read one last tweet, after having read the thousands before. "@yourtwittername I WISH YOU'D KILL YOURSELF AND GET AWAY FROM HARRY, SKANK" Your hands shake as you type out a reply. "your wish has been granted". The last tweet you will ever send. You let out a cry as you hit send. Within minutes, your mentions are blowing up. Your phone is ringing. You ignore them all for the first time in forever. The pill bottle shakes as you hold it in your hand. Dumping out one. Two. Three. More, more. You can hardly count them. Your hand shakes as you drop the pill bottle on the ground and toss the colorful little things in your mouth, swallowing them down with water. You got your wish, you think to yourself. The ugly skank is gone, you think to yourself. "(Y/N)! NO! PLEASE," the door to your flat opens and Harry runs in, breathing heavily. He picks you up in your arms and eyes the empty pill bottle. "No, please. I saw your tweet. How many did you take? God, no. No," he's in tears, holding your body tightly. He pulls out his phone and calls an ambulance. "Please don't die, please, I'm so sorry I let you down.

I'm so sorry you got so much hate for being mine...I'm so sorry," he sobs, stroking your hair, waiting for the ambulance. You can't respond, everything is blurry. "Please don't die," he repeats quietly, his voice cracking, his tears falling on your cheeks. A few hours later you wake up in the hospital. You hear doctors speaking to Harry. "Pumped her stomach...barely made it...suicide watch..." you hear. Harry sees you've woken up and runs to your side. "Oh God..." he kisses your cheek and shakes his head. "Please, you can break up with me if you can't take the hate, it's all my fault.

I love you so much, but if losing you means you stay alive, I'll do anything..." he rambles. "No. No, Harry. I'm so sorry..I shouldn't let them get to me..." you choke out. "I love you so much..." He hugs you tightly and you remember why you got the hate in the first place. Not because what they say is true, just because you have what they don't. You remember how lucky you are, how amazing he is, how he's all yours. "I'll never do this again," you whisper into his hair as he holds you close. "Please don't," he whispers back, squeezing your pale hand.

Zayn: "Stay away from him," a girl with a '1D' shirt yells at you, tossing her starbucks coffee in your face, the coffee burns your skin and you gasp. She laughs and walks away, rolling her eyes. You feel your eyes brim with tears, and you walk back home with your head down, so no one will see you cry. You stand in you and Zayn's shared walk in closet. You're done. Done with dealing with the spot light. Done with being called anorexic, ugly, fat, slutty. All contradicting each other, all hurting just as much. If you die, you think to yourself, all the problems will go away. No more hate. No more jealousy. You tie your favorite scarf from the chandelier, like a noose. You'll die in your favorite scarf, high fashion. You shake your head at how even at a time like this you're worrying about fashion. Something so silly and small compared to life. But you can't take it anymore. You step up onto the chair and slide the scarf around your neck. One step and you're done. One step. One step. "(Y/N)!" Zayn walks into the closet suddenly, his shirt half-buttoned. He must've gotten home early. He runs over to you quickly and looks up at you with teary eyes.

"Please. Please don't do it. I'm sorry for whatever I've done, you can hate me or anything, just please..." he looks up at you and begs, holding your hand. You see the tears in his eyes, and the love and you know you can't do it. You can't leave him. You can't use a permanent fix for a temporary problem. You take the scarf off your neck and break down into sobs. Zayn lifts you off the chair and you both sit on the closet floor as you sob into his arms. "I'm not good enough," you choke out. He shakes his head and hugs you tightly. "You're not good enough, you're MORE than good enough," he says. "Please...don't ever do this. You can't leave me.

I can't lose you," he sniffs. "You're amazing and smart, but this is a bad decision..." he says. You nod and kiss his cheek. "I'm sorry," you say, truly meaning it. You don't want to be one of those people who ends up in newspapers, the one who was too weak and just committed suicide. You were stronger than that. You were strong as long as you had Zayn by your side. And it didn't look like he was leaving anytime soon.

Niall: "She's such a slut," the girl says, talking about you. "I know! Plus, her hair is so, ugh!" the other one laughs. You sit around the campfire silently. Niall had gone to use the bathroom and you were left with a bunch of fans and the other boys. It had been a contest.

Fans got to have a campfire with One Direction! Niall had insisted you come along. You didn't want to though, you knew how much the fans hated you, you knew this wouldn't be any different. "Plus, her outfit is so fucking ugly," another one adds. You're right there, they know you hear them, they don't care. They're that cruel. Their comments just stack up in your mind, on top of all the twitter and Facebook hate. Too much hate.

You get up suddenly and walk over to the woods, there's a cliff nearby, you know. You've been here before. "Hey! Where are you going?" Liam asks, noticing you walking away. "Um...just going to get my jacket, I'll be right back," you lie, smiling innocently. He nods and turns back to the fire. Sorry I lied to you, Liam, you think to yourself as you reach the cliff. Sorry for not being good enough, Niall, you think to yourself. Sorry for not being strong enough. Sorry for not being able to handle the pressure. You take a step closer to the edge with each mental apology. "(Y/N). Step away from the edge, please." Niall says gently, emerging from the trees with Liam in tow. He's out of breathe and his voice is shaking. He looks about to cry. "Please. Please. You are good enough. You are beautiful. You are stronger than this. You're better than this," he whimpers, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Liam must've known. He must've told Niall. You silently thank Liam as you step away from the edge and collapse on the muddy ground. Niall runs over to you and gathers you in his arms. "Please, please, don't ever do that, Princess," he mumbles, hugging you so tight you might just explode. "I love you so much, they're all just jealous and stupid ass holes and..." he tells you. You hug him tightly and your tears slid onto his shirt. Liam's still standing by the trees awkwardly, nervously. Unsure of where to go. "Thank you, Liam," you cry out, you know he must've seen through your lie and told Niall. Liam nods with a smile and walks over. "Don't listen to any of them, (Y/N).

You are amazing and beautiful..and you mean so much to Niall, to me, the boys..all of us. You've got more love than you've got hate," he says. You pull Liam into you and Niall's hug and can't believe you'd ever thought about giving up. You were amazing and beautiful, you just let a few harsh people get in the way of your thoughts.

Louis: "They just don't see what we have is REAL!" Louis exclaims angrily. "I know, Louis," you say shakily. "I'm done," you mumble into the phone. You hang up on Louis and look out on the busy street. Louis would be here soon to pick you up for your date. A couple of steps and you'd have done it. You'd be gone. Dead. No more problems. No more hate. You'd just been talking to Louis, listening to him angrily vent about another Larry Stylinson analysis he'd read. You'd seen the same rant and read it so many times. You're a beard, they all say. But it's not true. You're both in love. What you two have is real. You're so frustrated, it's like getting arrested for something you haven't done, and no one will believe you.

You can't take it anymore. Maybe you were exaggerating. Maybe you weren't. But you hated being told if you were in love or not, if you were real or not, if you were pretty or not. Everything hits you at once and you take a step closer to the street. The cars fly by. They looks like beautiful machines, just going by. Taking people places. You step closer to the edge of the street. Then see a bright red Porsche about to pass. A pretty car. A pretty car to die from, you think. You step in the middle of the street shakily. You hear the car's horn and close your eyes, waiting for the impact. Waiting to die. But you don't. You're hit with a body instead. "Lou!" you shout, he's pushed you out of the way and he's on top of you. Both of you safely on the sidewalk. "What the fuck, (Y/N)? You almost...died," he says, worry and anger filling his voice.

"That was the goal," you snap, angry he'd pushed himself in a decision that was your own. He looks surprised, hurt, angry. "Why...Why would you want to..." he shakes his head. He doesn't understand. He's still on top of you from when he pushed you to the side, saving your life. You look at the tears forming on his bright blue eyes. Eyes of the boy you love. Eyes of the boy who just saved your life. Eyes you never want to leave behind, especially not voluntarily. "Oh, Lou..." you burst into tears and he wraps you in his arms. "Please, what we have is real. Who cares if they doubt it? WE know it's real. It's US. I love you so much," he says softly, stroking your hair. "Don't ever leave me." You nod and wipe your eyes. "I won't ever leave you," you reply, still shaking.

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