When I'm In His Arms

Chapter 1 :)

(Okay, so this is a One Direction Fan Fiction, even if it doesn't seem like it yet. Don't worry, you'll get to read about the boys in a short bit:)

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Love.

Crazy. Spontaneous. Magical love. It's something I had gone a very long time without, and now I don't know how I survived. But when he came, he changed my world. I'm writing this to prove to people that things can get better. My story is not one with fairies and magical places. My story is real, and I plan to tell every bit of it.

There was, however, one piece of magic in my life before I met him.

Fall.

The trees change their colors from bright pink to deep red to faded yellow, and the air always smells fresh and crisp. As I made my way down the street to school, I liked to take my time just to listen to the birds chirping in the bramble thickets and see the squirrels scurry across the road... and also to avoid another black-eye before homeroom.

It's no secret that I'm... different from other teenagers. I'm an outcast most of the time, and no one makes the effort to talk to me. I'm lucky if I get as much as a smile from someone, let alone a greeting. I practically live in a box, because I'm completely lost when it comes to music trends, or popular movies. I live with my half-brother Steven and his father Jeff because both of my parents died in a car crash when I was seven. They don't pay much attention to me, and I'd like to keep it that way. They aren't exactly friendly, and I'm not exactly good at coping with rude people. All I have is my friend Stacey.

On my way to school, I go by her house. That morning I was running a little late, so by the time I got there, she was already at the front gate. When she saw me she motioned to her watch and raised a brow. "Can you tell time Sabrina, or is my watch wrong? Because it says we have three minutes before we're marked tardy."

She only called me Sabrina when she was upset, otherwise she called me Saby. That's what everyone called me when they even spoke to me. I planted my palm on my forehead and opened my mouth to apologise, but then she broke into a grin and opened the gate. "Calm your pants, I was joking. We still have eight minutes, and you know that even if we were that late I wouldn't care."

I sighed with relief and giggled. "Well let's go then!"

We sat down in our seats just before the announcements came on. On time, and without a single scratch.

Being different in my school is all it takes for someone to target you and make your life a living nightmere. Cassi DeAngelo has been my arch-enemy for as long as I can remember. Her strawberry-blonde hair is usually pulled back in a sleek braid over her pointy shoulder bones. She can pass easily as anorexic, and I have no doubt she visits the tanning booth more frequently than she eats. She's not really fighting material because she worries too much about chipping a nail, but she has other people at her side twenty-four/seven to do her dirty-work. Gabby and Silvia, a.k.a. the brunette cheerleading barbies, are the reason I come home almost every day with a new scar added to my collection. I have enough problems.

My own thoughts drowned out the announcements as I looked down at my scarred wrists. The first time I cut, I promised myself I would stop. That was about five years ago, when I was 12. I've cut almost every day since. Do I feel guilty about it? Maybe. But it tied me to reality; bitter, painful, and depressing.

The fact that I was mildly bipolar really didn't help the matter at all. It's sometimes really hard to explain my mood swings, because I don't really notice them and I have no one to notice them FOR ME because I rarely socialize. The only way I found out was when my old friend Denise, who moved to another school three years ago, forced me to go to a doctor when she found me one day trying to overdose on pain killers. Most days, I wish she hadn't. I could've ended this suffering many years ago. I've tried many times since then, but for some crazy reason, I couldn't bring myself to do it. It wasn't even like I was scared. I just couldn't.

The announcements ended after the pledge, which nobody recited anymore, and I made my way to first period: science.

"Emo freak."

I didn't have to turn my head to see who my insulter was. I already knew by the deep and gravelly voice that it was a boy. The only boy that would ever talk to me, and that was all he ever said to me. His name is Yives Sanders. He bumped my shoulder as he strutted by, grinning mischievously from ear to ear, and my science textbook came tumbling down along with my binder, a few loose papers, and a pencil or two. A group of people walked by laughing and stepped on some of the papers, leaving dirty prints all over the surface.

I picked up my supplies and looked down the hallway just in time to see Yives' flaming red hair disappear in the sea of faces. In a matter of seconds, people had filtered into their first period rooms and I shut the door behind me, panting noticeably. As soon as I did, the bell went off. Then I found my seat next to Stacey who gave me a concerned look. For once she looked like she cared...

Stacey has a history of going postal at random times of the day. You'd think out of the two of us that she was the one with bipolar disorder. The difference is, I'm just as bad and that's with medication. Most of the time, she pays no attention to me unless there's no one else to talk to. I'm just an extra in her eyes.

But not today. "Yives again?"

I nodded.

She rolled her eyes. "Jeez Saby, you need to stand up for yourself. You're being pathetic."

I eyed her sharply . "Pathetic? You try it." I cursed under my breath.

Mr. Modolini began to write our schedule on the board. Today, we had all period to work on a review packet for the science midterm. I took out a pencil and got to work.

"So, I was thinking maybe if you aren't busy we could pick up some burgers at Skyline Fry tonight. You up for it?" Then she added sarcastically, "Or are you too chicken about what your 'friends' might think about that."

Shaking myself out of a daze, I glanced up at her and said, "Huh? Oh... well... there was a concert I wanted to go to tonight. The one Direction one? I heard Lionel was going to go."

Stacey rolled her eyes and choked on her laughter. "Lionel this, Lionel that. You don't even like One direction. They're a gay band."

She was right. One Direction was a british-Irish boyband that every other girl fantasizes about day and night. Lionel, a guy I've had a crush on for years usually worked a food stand just inside the stadium. To get there, you had to go see the concert. I found an online deal earlier that month for the last seat left in the stadium. The price dropped to a mere one hundred dollars, and I bought a ticket with my baby sitting money. Otherwise, I had no interest in seeing One Direction what-so-ever.

"True," I said. "But you never know. I mean ONE seat left and it's right at the back. Doesn't that tell you something?"

"That you're a desperate stalker?"

I looked down at my hands awkwardly and then started working on my packet.

There was one thing that got me through the day: the thought of seeing Lionel tonight...