Bullied (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter 2

I'm still confused about Harry's behaviour and the words he said to me. Somehow he stucks in my head. I try to do my homework but I really can't concentrate. So I head over to Facebook. Horrible mistake!

"Kill yourself!"

"You are unnecessary"

"You suck!"

There are so many of those messages I receive every fucking day.

I close my eyes for a second when I get a new message. It's from... Harry?!

"Are you feeling better?" What?  What's going on?

"Yeah, thank you." I simply reply. I don't know what else to write. Why would Harry care about how I feel? Maybe he use it against me after all.

"Glad to hear that :)" What? I can't think clearly. This confuses me completely. He never talks a lot to me. He never cared about me. Yeah, he doesn't bully me but... okay, okay. I take a deep breath. What should I answer?

"Thank you" is what I reply. Was that good? Or bad? It's just a simple thank you that he asked me how I am. Nothing more.

"Thank you for what?" I would love to reply "For being here" but that would be a mistake. Shit. Why did I even reply "thank you" to him? Ahhhh I hate myself.

"For asking me how I am."  Now I'm completely fucked up.

"I was just polite. Don't ever think something wrong. I still don't care about you." Oups. Thank you. How nice. Why did I even think that he cares about me. No one does. Oh. I forgot. My family does. He's an asshole. Like anyone else.

"I won't." I simply reply. Now he's offline. God. Why am I so fucking stupid all of the time? I never learn from any of my mistakes. I trust too easily and I feel too deeply.

I close my laptop and lay down on my bed. I don't want to cry. Not again. I see the scissor on the table. I know in the end it never helps but it helps for the moment and maybe it's all what I need right now. Just one more time... Just one more cut.

I stand up, take the scissor and sit down again. I look down on my wrist. Oh. It doesn't even look that bad if you compare it to the times I actually hurted myself in a way. I take a deep breath and push the sharp and cold material a few too many times against my wrist until blood finally comes to it's surface. This felt good. I don't know if I'm feeling better now... it's all so empty inside, but I can tell that the pain in my body isn't as bad as the pain on my wrist. So it was worth it... even if I know it was so so  wrong.