Take Me Home|A One Direction Story

Chapter Two

Chapter Two “You’ll never treat yourself right, darlin” - Little Things

Emma was now at home, by herself…again. This was a normal thing for her you see, her mother volunteers all the time, she usually takes night shifts so people can have ‘comfortable nights’. And her dad is a workaholic, whenever he gets the chance he’ll take more shifts and stay later. The worst part about that is that Emma’s sleep when her parents come home, so they don’t see all the hate from the ‘popular’ mean girls. Fat, ugly, faggot, etc…you name, she’s been called it.

MELISSA G: omg, why r u still alive? no one likes u!

AMANDA W: like yah, u are a worthless little bitch, no one likes u, go die.

These are the kind of things Emma finds on her Facebook page, on a regular basis. Emma knows she has friends, Kelsey, Kristen, Victoria and Jay are her friends…right? Yeah, of course. If they weren’t they wouldn’t be hanging out with her.

“Arg! I hate my life!” Emma screams. Tears start to trickle down her cheeks as she sobs into her hands. Why does this have to happen to her? Why is it her and not someone else? Emma leads herself to her bathroom and locks the door behind her, there’s really no point but anything can possibly happen, who knows..her mom could randomly come home from some charity event and find Emma in the bathroom.

Emma topples down onto the floor and holds herself in a ball, crying her eyes out. There’s only one way to solve this Emma thinks. She reaches into her shower and pulls out her razor that she uses to shave her legs, she carelessly pulls out one of the metal blades and just stares at it. Was this really the right thing to do? A small, soft voice at the back of her head is telling her ‘no’, but a bigger, stronger voice is saying ‘yes’. Fresh tears start to fall down Emma’s cheeks as the examines her body, trying to decide a ‘safe spot’ to cut.

Which place would be hard to notice? Her eyes start to examine her hand and fingers, then the stop, freeze. The back of her fingers have small, tiny veins. This is a great place to cutEmma whispers to herself. Emma slits the blade across the back of her index finger, she lets out a small wimpier as droplets of blood start to appear. Emma continues until she goes numb, and so that she doesn’t die. She finally realizes that she’s showing her pain on the inside, on the outside.

This makes her cry even more, she places her head into her hands but quickly pulls away as her salty tears, sting her fresh cuts. Later that night, for once her parents are home for dinner.

“How was your day, hun?” Her mother asks.

“It’s was great!” Lie. It wasn’t great, it was terribly, the most terrible day ever.

“Thats fantastic” her dad adds. Really? Her parents cannot see her pain? Or her cuts… Her parents seem to be intelligent, hard working people, but yet are completely oblivious to her depression. What would it be like to have a normal family? Would they generally care for her? That is something Emma will never know.