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Unwanted (A Niall Horan fanFICTION) FINISHED
Story published September 17, 2012 · updated March 2, 2013 · completed · 119 pages · 42,616 readers · 699,031 reads
12. I Wish
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12. I Wish

        *Harry’s P.O.V.*

        Niall isn’t back yet. It’s been exactly 24 hours since he was checked into the hospital. They’re putting him under 72 hour watch, that’s mandatory for anyone who attempts suicide. And Niall, he attempted suicide. Because of our bullying.

        I was instantly snapped out of my forever darkening thoughts as my phone rang. I groaned, yet answered it.

        “Hey boo.” God. It was Amber.

        “What do you want?” I hissed.

        She scoffed, “What’s up with you?”

        “You are. You should have told me you were dating Niall!” I screamed into the mic.

        She just laughed. “Lemme guess, he when into his bedroom and slit his pathetic little wrists like the pussy he is. C’mon, Harry, you can do better than a wimp like him.”

        I felt my insides swell up in anger. “Amber, if I ever see you again, then I will slit your throat. Don’t text, don’t call, don’t even try to talk to Niall. You’re the pathetic one, you whore.”

        “Oh, I’m so scared. Please, you and Niall can throw yourselves a pity party and kill yourselves. Why would I even want you?”

        “Because selfish brain-less whores have terrible taste in men.” I snapped, hanging up the phone. I stared blankly at the screen, trying to work out my thoughts. It wasn’t working. Then I saw the clock on the phone, saying it was 12:30. I had a therapy appointment at 1. Might as well go.

        I walked out of my room, and saw Paul waiting for me. “Oh, I was just about to come get you.” He said, leading me out to his car.

        “Paul, are you angry with me and the boys?” I asked as soon as we sat down in the seats.

        He sighed and buckled his seatbelt. “I’m not angry, I’m confused and disappointed.”

        I took a minute to answer, but I whispered. “Me too.”

        Paul thankfully dropped the subject, and he drove me to the therapist’s.

        “I’ll be out here.” He said, sitting in the waiting room while picking up a magazine.

        “Okay.” I half-heartedly followed the receptionist to the therapist’s office. As I was about to knock on her closed door, she opened it. The woman was in her mid-forties, and she had dark, brown hair. She had beautiful brown eyes, and she was wearing a royal blue blouse and a black pencil skirt.

        “Hello, I’m Cr. Wood’s. Now I’m not new at your band, so if I show you a picture of you five together, will you point out who is who?” She asked, and I nodded. She let me sit on this plush black sofa, and she stood over me as I looked at a giant picture she gave me.
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        I smiled at the memory, that was the recording of What Makes You Beautiful’s music video. But the bad part was that was taken during the beginning of our cruelty towards Niall.

        “That’s Zayn.” I pointed to him, on the far left.

        “That’s Louis. He likes bright pants.” I chuckled, pointing him out to the doctor.

        “That’s me in the middle, I’m Harry.” I said.

        “That’s Niall.” I whispered, poiting to him, who was next to me in the picture. He didn’t look exactly happy, but he didn’t look broken like he was now. He looked like he was sort of on the edge, and he was probably wondering whether or not the boys’ and I were serious when we taunted him.

        I shook myself from my thoughts, and pointed to the boy with his arm around Niall’s shoulder. “That’s Liam.” I whispered, finding it difficult to regain my confidence after pointing Niall out to Dr. Woods.

        “Thank you.” She smiled, gently taking the picture away from me and setting it on her desk. She sat in this pretty maroon colored armchair that was directly across from me, and she instantly crossed her legs.

        “So, how are you feeling?” She asked me, studying my body movements.

        “Pretty bad, to be honest.” I admitted.

        “And can you explain to me why?” She asked, pursing her lips.

        “Well, about a year ago, the lads and I started being really mean to Niall. Every chance we had to hurt him, we took it. And he got a girlfriend a little bit ago, but he didn’t tell any of us. I brought a girl home, who turned out to be Niall’s girlfriend. Niall walked in on us kissing, and then the next thing I knew, he was killing himself.” I left out the minor details.

        Dr. Woods nodded, and wrote something down. “So, how does that make you feel?”

        I shrugged. “Pretty sad. I kind of…hate myself. I was always the meanest to Niall, I sort of felt like I had to up the other lads in their insults. So I don’t know…I don’t know how to exactly describe how I feel right now.” I looked down at my shoes, avoiding eye contact from Dr. Woods.

        “I see. Now, I want to try something.” She proposed, and I nodded.

        “If you could say one thing to Niall, what would it be?” She asked, studying me carefully.

        I instantly broke out into heart-wrenching sobs. “I wish it was me.” I somehow whispered through my tears, and we spent the rest of the hour with Dr. Woods handing me tissues constantly, and me crying.

        Honestly, I was happy I could cry somewhere other than in my bedroom. But what I said was true.

        I wish it were me who the lads turned against.

        I wish it were me who ended cutting himself because everyone hated him.

        I wish it were me who got cheated on by my girlfriend.

        I wish I had swallowed those pills.

        Maybe then, Niall wouldn’t be hurting so badly right now.

 

 

I tear myself open, I sew myself shut.

My weakness is, that I can't do much.

And these scars remind me, that the past is real.

I tear my heart open, just to feel.
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