Last Cut (Niall Horan Fanfiction) {Discontinued}

A/N

*severe trigger warnings* (of literally like all kinds read at your own risk)

Alright. This will be the last addition to this book. You guys don't understand how sad that makes me. I thank all of you so much that actually stuck with my shitty five chapter book over the course of years. There's no excuse. The only thing I can give you is the truth.

When I first started writing this book I wasn't in a great place in my life. I'd never been abused, but I was severely depressed. This book was an outlet for me. A messed up father and bullies took the place of every problem I'd faced in life, and the self harm was all too real. I have too many scars to count at this point. But my depression also got in the way of updates. I didn't want to do anything.

The year after I started this book, we had moved again, and life was a little bit better. I wasn't so depressed, but I was still self harming, going through too many relapses for me to remember as I tried to quit. This year I also spent most of my time away from my house, not wanting to be around my parents at the time and taking advantage of the fact that I could for once hang out with my friends outside of school. I also didn't have internet, or service. If I wanted to do something online, I had to walk to the small town library that had crappy internet and was creepy.

The next year I got into a really bad relationship. I fell in love with him. He was the first person I'd fallen in love with. He was abusive. He would choke me, pull my hair, push me around, etc. He head butted me seven times in a row once. He was extremely emotionally abusive. He would call me names and always accuse me of lying to him. He constantly accused me of cheating on him and of doing meth, which he was an addict of. He even said I was either sleeping with my dad or he was molesting me. I stayed away from all my friends while I was with him, scared to get in trouble and incredibly depressed. He banned me from seeing and talking to some of them as well. He cheated on me. Probably more times than I know about. He raped me twice. Analy. The first time was the weekend of Valentine's Day. He did other things too. A lot of things. I was slowly dying. I could feel it. I was going crazy. I had an eating disorder, I never ate. My self harm had gotten the worst it had ever been. I tried to kill myself on Christmas after he told me to jump of a bridge before he did, because he was tired of me and our toxic ass relationship. It had just gone too far. I snapped. Now I have to deal with the scars that cover both of my arms every day because I survived. I thank god the scar on my neck has healed. I was 15. When I finally got out of that relationship, my friends had to literally teach me how to be human again. How to talk to people, how to look them in the eye, how to stop saying sorry for everything, etc. I had panic attacks all the time, and I still have ptsd, I just don't have as many triggers anymore.

The year after that I fell in love with another boy. Except he wasn't much different. He was emotionally abusive, although not as bad as the first guy. He would constantly turn situations around on me, tried turning my family against me, and was a pathological liar. He also constantly cheated. He would get in full on relationships with other people. He even cheated on me with a girl my previous boyfriend had cheated on me with. He took a girl out on a date right in front of me, and kissed her at my house. Keep in mind the first few months we were together, he lived with me. We weren't supposed to be together. My parents had taken him in. The same thing happened with my first boyfriend. My parents knew I had feelings for both of them prior to move in. It wasn't super smart. Anyways, my parents were also now meth addicts, had been for some amount of time but it had gotten worse. My dad had turned into a real ass. Was a little more physical. Just grabbing my arm or shutting doors in front of me to continue fights and stuff. My mom and I constantly got into fights. They would always turn things around on me. Would say things that didn't even make sense. With it all, I was going crazy again. I had barely recovered from my first boyfriend. I'd also gotten a job, and my mother treated me like shit there too. Always yelling at me for things she wouldn't get on other people about. It was basically just super toxic. I was still self harming. Not as bad as before, but still. In April I believe of that year, possibly March, I managed to stop. I don't know how. Still to this day its such a weird thing to me. It was such a bad addiction at that point and I was severely messed up, but I just stopped. For the most part the cravings had stopped. The hole in my heart still burned, but for the most part that burning desire to cut it away was gone. When we broke up, because he left me for one of my friends, I wanted to, but the urge was nowhere near as strong as it should've been. I didn't do it. And I haven't a single time since. Every once in a while, I'll get an urge, but I push it away. Sometimes, I'll dig my nails into my palms, or my thigh, but I never let that get too far either. It's only when I can't deal with my emotions and I don't want to hurt myself worse.