You're Still Loved, I Swear *One Direction*

Chapter 7

A/N Warning, this may be triggering (aka intense cutting). I’m here if you need to talk!! Enjoy.

Niall sighed and turned his phone off. Really, it was a stupid idea to try and text that girl. He texted her when he woke up, around 10, and now it was nearly 4 o’clock and he hadn’t gotten an answer. But maybe she didn’t like him, you know? Maybe she really just didn’t care about him.

He huffed and tugged at his blonde hair, trying to push away the over whelming feeling of cutting that he had. It was hard, and honestly Niall didn’t know how to push it away. He’d been used to cutting when he felt like it, but since the boys found the scars on his wrist yesterday he really didn’t want to push them into finding his thighs.

But, just like one who had been possessed, Niall felt the world around him go white. He was still awake, but as he paced his room he knew that the only thing he could to regain sense of the really world was to cut.

To cut.

It was inevitable, really. Niall knew that cutting would replace his vision and everything else. But he couldn’t even find his way to the bathroom because his eyes were so blurry! He forcefully brought his hands onto his eye sockets, and used the heels of his palms to try and rub whatever the hell made him blind like this off.

But he couldn’t get it off, because it wasn’t something real that was putting the blinders over his eyes. It was the numbness of being alive.

Of being hated.

Of needing to be punished.

Of craving to be punished, because Niall was far too ugly and worthless to deserve to be in an international pop band. He didn’t deserve the girl boys, the fans, the paparazzi. He didn’t even deserve the hate, he just deserved to be punished for incompetent fuck-up that he was.

So Niall stumbled his way to the bathroom and ran a bath. He stripped down to his birthday suit and hissed as the cold air hit his creamy Irish skin.

As he grabbed the pocket knife from under the sink, he slowly sunk down into the bath. He ripped the bandages off his thighs and his wrist, and as he pressed the blade down on a random patch of skin, Niall was finally able to regain consciousness in what he was doing.

But he didn’t stop. He slid the blade across his already torn-up thighs, smiling and sobbing in sweet pain. The bath water soon turned to blood, because just like Niall, the blood was his sins fucking up every pure thing in sight, like the water.

“Is he in the bathroom?” Someone whispered from outside Niall’s restroom door. By this point, Niall was angrily bringing the knife down repeatedly over his legs, making sure to slash every single patch of available skin.

But when the other voice said, “Dunno, maybe he’s bathing.”

“Oh, right. I’ll knock.” Niall was sure that voice was Harry, but he didn’t know about the other one. He looked down at his thighs were strings of skin hung out in different places, and finally Niall opened his eyes (figuratively, of course).

He didn’t have to do this.

He didn’t need the punishment or the pain.

But it was already too late; Niall couldn’t wave a magic wand and heal the disgusting cuts everywhere. And by the time the knocking on the door became more anxious and persistent, Niall knew that he was slipping into darkness.

He tried to hold on, he really did. But he could, he was just so sleepy. He could close his eyes for just a minute, right? And maybe, when he woke up, he never would’ve cut himself in the first place.

A/N Wow. Intense. And, yes this is still a spanking story I promise. It might be two or three chapters until the next spanking, though. I hope this wasn’t too triggering L I love you <3 xoxo